Ahonui (Be patient, Tolerate)
by bloodmagik
Summary: *Sister story to Ho'omau (Persist, Persevere)* Work has been hectic, what with the governor insisting on having a reporter shadow them for 48 hours. But the girl they sent isn't the brightest crayon in the box and Steve's patience is sorely tested when said reporter finds her way into the middle of Five-0's murder investigation. *whump in later chapters*
1. Chapter 1

_I promised to post this a while ago but here it is! The sister story to 'Ho'omau (persist, persevere).  
Inspired by episode 3x21, this is what spawned the 'Five-0 from a paramedic's perspective' fic and I hope it lives up to expectations._

 _Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Hawaii Five-0 except seasons 1-4 on DVD and I promise to put Steve back (relatively) intact._

 _Set the Thursday after chapter ten of Ho'omau. You don't have to read it for this to make sense, but it would help._

* * *

 _Thursday, 0807 hours.  
_ _Five-0 HQ, Iolani Palace._

Steve's in the middle of filling in an acquisition form when Danny knocks on his door and he's thankful for the interruption as he shoves the mind numbing paperwork off to one side. His partner looks decidedly ruffled as he perches on the corner of the desk in front of him and he's careful to chose words that won't cause Danny's jaw to clench even tighter than it already is as he leans back in his chair and raises a questioning eyebrow.

"Rough morning?"

"That depends," his partner snarks, reaching across the desk to snag a page from the paperwork pile he was working on. "Is the governor still insisting that we spend today and tomorrow playing babysitter to some jumped-up Kim Kardashian-type princess who only cares about what color Bentley her daddy's going to buy for her birthday?"

"You haven't even met her," he protests, not unreasonably, frowning as Danny rolls his eyes at him. "For all you know, she could be – "

"Yeah, yeah. I know…" Danny makes quotation marks in the air. "She could be a professional who's actually interested in what goes on around here day-to-day… It's got nothing to do with the fact that there's an election just around the corner."

The detective jabs his finger into the top of Steve's desk to emphasize his point.

"We both know that the governor is using Five-0 to fish for votes and I, for one, would rather he do it by leaving us the hell alone so we can get on with our jobs." Then he lifts the page he snagged from Steve's paperwork and waves it at him. "'Affidavit' has two f's, by the way."

"It's not like I had any choice in the matter," Steve grouses, snatching the report from Danny's outstretched hand to roughly score out his mistake. He squeezes the correction in between two sentences and then glances up briefly. "Did you want something or did you just come in here to bitch about Denning and his agenda? Only, that girl is going to be here shortly so we can go over a few things before they start filming and I still need to finish filling in that acquisition so Denning's office can sign off on those new Tac vests we want."

"I need a favor, babe," Danny tells him, standing up to pace along the internal window line as the former SEAL pulls his paperwork back from where he shoved it to one side and then rubs a hand over his face. "Rachel just called. Her flight got changed so she won't be here to pick Grace up from school and I still need to go pick up the cake I ordered from Mary's friend for Grace's party tomorrow."

"Why don't I pick Gracie up from school?" Steve suggests, propping his elbows on the desk to rub at the band of tension that's begun to wrap itself around his forehead. "You can get her from the house when you're done. I can give Mary a call if something comes up and I'm needed here. Was there anything else?"  
Recognizing his paperwork as a lost cause, he pushes his chair away from the desk and stands, rolling his neck to ease the tension across the back of his shoulders. He reaches for the coffee mug sitting on the filing to his left and skirts out from behind his chair, nudging it closer to the desk with his hip as he walks away.

"Uh, no," Danny says, coming to an abrupt half. Falling into the step with the taller man, he smiles and lays a hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

They cross in front of the Smart table and Danny pushes through the swinging glass door in to the break room, leaning against the counter as he watches Steve spoon coffee granules into his cup.

"Thanks for letting Grace have her birthday party at your house."

Steve shrugs, dumping his spoon in the sink. Wrapping both hands around his cup, he turns, mirroring Danny's position leaning against the counter as he replies, "It didn't make sense for you to pay for the Hilton. And I already told you that you're both welcome any time – why you even thought you had to ask if beyond me."

"It's a wonder you can even function in society given the number of things that are _beyond you_ ," Danny grumbles, turning to face his partner. "It's called _being_ _polite,_ Steven. You know, saying _please_ and _thank you_ and – "

"Knocking before you let yourself into someone's house?" Steve finishes pointedly, raising his eyebrows over the rim of his coffee mug. Catching a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, he turns towards the main doors in time to see Sargent Duke Lukela cross the threshold, followed by a petite brunette decked out in a delicate-looking pale pink suite. Bringing up the read is a cameraman, a heavyset older man in a faded Def Leppard t-shirt and worn gray cargos.

Taking a sip from his mug, Steve pulls a face at the overly bitter taste and turns to dump the rest down the sink. Setting the empty cup down on the counter next to it, he mutters, "Let's get this over with," under his breath and then pushes out through the swinging doors into the main room.

As he approaches the small group, he hears Duke say, "This is Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett. The commander is in charge of running the Governor's task force." Pausing, the Sargent indicates the reporter and then the cameraman. "Stephanie Rossi and Tony Marshall."

"Hi," Steve says, offering his hand to the cameraman and then the reporter, who tosses her hair over her shoulder coquettishly before thrusting out her hand as she lets her eyes drift over all six feet three inches of Navy SEAL. She's five foot nothing in her heels and beams up at him as she twirls a strand of long dark hair around her index finger.

"Hi," she giggles, her dark eyes shining with excitement. "I'm Steffi."

"Right." Steve glances at the cameraman, who responds with a long-suffering eye roll. Forcing a smile, he beckons for the two visitor to follow him and turns on his heel, calling "Thanks, Duke," over his shoulder. Marching towards the smart table, he scowl at Danny, who's leaning against the break room door with a smug smile on his face.

"Not a word, Danno," Steve growls warningly, pointing a finger at his partner's chest.

 _Thursday, 1013 hours.  
Five-0 HQ, Iolani Palace._

"Welcome to the home of Five-0," Steffi declares, pushing through the glass doors into the outer office. "For the next two day, I'm going to be following the Governor's elite crime-fighting task force as they work to make our beautiful – Oh, shoot, that's not right, is it?" Pouting, she stands on his tiptoes to look at Tony over the camera. "One more time, okay?"

"Is she for real?" Kono asks, watching the ditzy brunette continue her spiel from where she's standing at the Smart table. The rookie shakes her head and then swipes her finger across the computer screen, sending an image onto the one of the monitors overhead. "What was the boss thinking agreeing to this?"

"He didn't think. That's why he's hiding out in his office," Danny tells her as he studies the photograph. Dropping his gaze back to the smart table, he sighs and runs through the list of suspects from Kono's search. "Do we like anyone else for this? The ex-boyfriend just isn't doing it for me."

"Who isn't doing what for you, Danno?" Steve asks, making Kono snort with laughter. Pressing a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter, she giggles, "Hey, Boss. Good timing – Danny was just saying – "

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Kalakaua," Danny mutters, rolling his eyes at her. Turning towards Steve, he motions towards the computer monitors. "We were just going over our list of suspects in the Wilson case. There's something about this guy that doesn't seem right. I just dunno what it is yet…"

Steve folds his arm over his chest as he looks up at the photo on the screen and then leans over the smart table to select a video file. He sends it to the monitor in front of them and, focusing his gaze on the bottom left hand corner of the screen, taps the 'play' icon.

"This was taken from one of the traffic cams on Hikimoe Street, right?" he asks, glancing at Kono as they wait for Julie Wilson and their suspect to appear in the frame.

"Yes." She nods, her eyes glued to the back of Julie's sparkly silver dress as the young woman stumbles drunkenly in her stilettos halfway across the screen. "I tracked them as far as Halolani Street but this guy knew what he was doing – he kept his head down until they were about to turn into the alley. I wasn't able to get a decent shot of his face."

"How bad are we talking, here?" Danny queries, leaning forwards to rest his arms on the edge of the smart table.

"It's pretty bad, brah," Kono admits as she pauses the traffic cam footage and minimizes the window the start a new search. "The only camera on Halolani is at the far end of the street so I had to use the editing suite on Fong's computer to zoom in. The image quality wasn't great to begin with and zooming in only made it worse. " Her fingers fly as she types and clicking on a file, she sends it to the third monitor with a flick of her wrist. "I cleaned it up as best I could but, as you can see, the image quality is too poor to run through any of our usual databases."

"Okay, facial recognition is out," Steve concedes, glancing across the room to where Steffi is watching them all with an expectant smile on her face. Feeling minute vibrations starting up his thigh, he fumbles in his pocket for his phone and glances down at the caller I.D. It reads 'Mary' and he gestures to the reporter as he starts to wards his office. "I have to take this. Kono, could you…?"

Kono smiles weakly at Steffi, who beams at her from across the table. "Sure thing, Boss."

 _Thursday, 1059 hours.  
Five-0 HQ, Iolani Palace._

"So, we can use the smart table to build a 3D working model of our crime scene," Kono explains, trying not to look directly into the camera. Choosing a file, she brings it up on the middle monitor overhead. "We start by using a base model using photographs from the scene and then we bulk it out using videos, satellite imagery… that kind of thing. If there are people hanging around, we'll try to get any pictures they took with their phones so our model covers many different points of view and is as detailed as possible. Does that make sense?"

Steffi cocks her head to one side, like an inquisitive Labradoodle. "You use the computer to stick together all of the photos so you have one big picture instead of lots of little separate ones. How long does something like that take?" A tiny wrinkle mars her perfectly smooth forehead as she frowns down at the model on the screen. "Do you have to confiscate peoples' phones until the model is finished?"

"No, we ask them to email the files to us or come into the office so we can transfer them," Kono replies, glancing up when the door to Steve's office swings open. "Hey, Boss, let me borrow your phone for a second," she calls to him, holding out her hand. Setting the handset down on the smart table, she taps the screen next to it and chooses 'import' from the drop down menu that appears.

"Pretty cool, right?" she grins as she scrolls through the imported files. Picking one at random, she sends the photo onto one of the big screens and then smirks as she leans back to tap Steve's bicep none-too-gently with her fist. "Can you do French braids, too?" she asks her boss teasingly, smiling at the photo of Steve carefully pulling Grace's hair into a braid before she sends it to the trash.

"That's classified," Steve deadpans, slipping his phone back into his pocket. His face turns serious and he tilts his head towards the drawn blinds along the hall. "Danny in his office? I want to run something by him before I take another look at the footage from the traffic cam."

"Yeah, he is," Kono tells him as she clears the screen and moves the rest of Steve's photos to the trash. "He went to see how Chin's getting on interviewing Julie's parents. They flew in from the mainland last night to formally identify the body. Why, did you think of something?"

 **H50*H50*H50**

Steve strides out of Danny's officer with the detective close on his heels. "Did Justin Conrad and Julie Wilson live together?" he asks Kono as he joins her and Steffi at the smart table. "Is it in the preliminary report?"

Kono drops her head to quickly scan the file she'd pulled a few minutes early. "Should be. Yeah, here it is… Julie moved into Justin's house last summer after the got engaged." Swiping her finger across the desktop, she watched as the missing persons report that had been filed by Ashley Hunt filled one of the screens. A second later HPD's preliminary report joined it.

"So, they live together but Julie's girlfriend – this Ashley girl she was out with – is the one who reported her missing," Danny muses, resting his elbows on the tabletop as he frowns up at the monitor. "Does anyone else think that's a little off? I mean, your fiancée goes out drinking and doesn't come home, the first thing you're donna do when you wake up is try to find out where the hell she is and if she's okay. Right?"

"Right," Steve agrees, rubbing a hand over his mouth. He asks Kono," Did anyone make any attempt to contact her? By calling, text message, social media… anything?

"HPD found Julie's phone in her purse when they processed the alley where her body was found. There was a bunch of missed calls from Ashley but nothing from Justin," Kono confirms, shaking her head. Scrolling down to Ashley's statement, she scanned the first few lines and adds, "It says here that Ashley talked t Julie a little before three AM but there's nothing in the call log until the first missed call at a quarter after eight."

"So, someone deleted the call log," Steve says. "What kind of phone did Julie have?"

"An iPhone," Kono tells him with a grin, opening the photograph the crime scene photographer had taken of Julie's purse and zooming in on the meager contents that had been scattered across the tarmac.

Danny's forehead creases in confusion as he stares up at the screens. "Nope. Sorry, I don't get it," he mutters, pushing himself upright to gesture at the photography. "Is someone going to explain how our vic having an iPhone with no call history is going to help us figure out who killed her?"

Kono smirks and then turns to Steve, holding her hand out expectantly. "You're the only one with an iPhone," she reminds him with an overly sweet smile. When he reaches into his pocket, she says, "Thanks, Boss," and turns back to the computer with her prize clutched in her fist. Holding the handset at arms length, she lifts it towards the ceiling and then beckons Danny closer.

"Look at the screen," she instructs, angling the phone until the smudges on the glass screen glisten under the lights. Pointing to a mark near the top left corner, she explains, "They're latent prints - you can just about make out the ridge detail right there. Whoever deleted Julie's call history would have had to touch the screen."

"So, we might be able to lift the guy's prints," Danny concludes, flapping a hand at the photograph of Julie's prints. "Assuming he was dumb enough to touch it in the first place."

Steve nods in agreement. "Our guy was smart enough to keep his head down. Chances are, he knew not to touch anything or wore gloves. We'll be lucky if we find anything to run through AFIS." Leaning on the smart table, he closes his eyes and runs the palms of his hands up over the face before deciding, "Send the phone to Fong and see if he can get anything from it."

Pocketing his own phone, the former SEAL stands and rolls his neck, sighing when the vertebrae pop softly.

"We should talk to the fiancé, see if there's anything in the fact that he didn't try to contact her," he suggests before turning to Danny. "Did Chin say how long he would be?"

Danny nods. "He was heading back when I talked to him.

"Okay," Steve decides. "You and I will go talk to Justin. Kono, when Chin gets back I need you to sign Julie's phone out of the evidence locker at HPD and take it down to the lab for Fong to process." Turning, he pushes through the glass door into his office and leans over his desk to grab his badge, clipping the gold shield to the waistband of his cargos as he shoulders his way back into the main office space.

"Ready?" he asks, glancing over at his partner. When Danny nods, he start walking towards the exit and then pauses when he doesn't hear the _tap tap tap_ of Steffi's heels on the tiled floor behind him. "Get a move on," he calls, already halfway out of the door. "You guys are with us."


	2. Chapter 2

_Thursday, 1219 hours.  
_ _Justin Conrad's house._

"Okay," Danny declares, unbuckling his safety belt as the Camaro pulls into the curb of Justin Conrad's tiny bungalow. "Before we go any further, there are a few rules we need to discuss." Twisting in his seat, he waits for Steve to push himself out of the driver's seat and slam the door shut.  
"Number one." He jabs his finger into the top of the center console as he looks pointedly at the bubbly brunette and the cameraman. "You guys wait outside. Number two – "

"But we're supposed to film everything," Steffi argues, shifting in her seat. "How are we supposed to show our audience what goes on behind the scenes if you won't let us film?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way," Danny says, reaching for the door handle. Pushing the passenger seat forwards, he holds the door open and motions towards the pavement. "Ladies first."

Clambering awkwardly through the gap between the seats, Steffi squeaks in surprise when her shoe catches on the sill, sending her stumbling. "My Jimmy Choos!" she shrieks as Steve lunges forwards to catch her.

"Careful," he grumbles. Wrapping a hand around her arm, he hauls the ditzy reporter upright until he's sure she has both feet firmly on the ground and then scowls down at Steffi's four-inch heels. "Can you run in those?"

"Seriously?" Danny stares at Steve incredulously as the former SEAL opens his mouth to protest, "What? It's a valid question – if someone runs, I'm supposed to let them get away because she can't keep up?"  
Shaking his head in disbelief, Danny spins on his heel and marches off along the street towards Justin Conrad's house, turning to glare at Steve over his shoulder. "Foot chases," he mutters under his breath as he pushes through the gate and stomps along the path to the front door. "There aren't going to be any foot chases. All we're doing is talking to the guy."

Steve rolls his eyes at his partner's irate mumbling and then jogs after him. When they reach the porch, he pauses with his foot on the bottom step and turns to look at the reporter. "End of the line. You guys wait here."

"But I was told – " Steffi starts, her voice fading when she realizes Steve isn't going to back down. Trotting up the steps, the commander walks straight into the house and slams the door shut behind him.  
"Great," the young woman sulks, scuffing the toe of her suede pumps on the path's rough surface. "Now what are we supposed to do?" Huffing, she drops onto the porch step and leans forwards to rest her elbows on her knees, propping her head up on he palms.

"Hey," she calls to Tony, staring at the blacked-out windows of a passing Range Rover as it drives by the front of the house and continues on down the street. "D'you have any smokes on you? I left my bag in the car." Turning back, she frowns when she can't see her colleague anywhere. Pushing herself upright, she brushes off the back of her pants and cocks her head to one side listening for her cameraman's footsteps. "Tony?"

Trotting round to the side of the house, Steffi grinds to a halt as Tony steps over a decorative wrought iron border into one of the bare flower beds. "What are you doing? He said we weren't allowed to film," she hisses, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no-one has seen them as the cameraman presses the camera lense against the window.

"He said we weren't allowed to film _inside_ ," Tony shoots back, sidling closer. Straining to hear the voices through the glass, he holds up a finger to shush the young woman as she comes to stand beside him. "Shhhh, I'm trying to get this," he mutters, adjusting the volume setting on his microphone. Listening in on the three mens' conversation, he smiles to himself. "Prime time, here we come."

 **H50*H50*H50**

"We're sorry for your loss," Danny offers, shuffling forwards in the overly soft armchair to rest his elbows on his knees. Across the room, Justin Conrad smiles sadly and wipes at his eyes beneath the rims of his trendy square-framed glasses.

"Thank you," he says softly. "Julie was very special to me."

The detective smiles sympathetically. "If you have time just now, we'd like to ask you a few questions," he tells the young man, glancing over at Steve as his partner surveys Justin curiously.

In his early twenties, Justin Conrad is tall – Steve's height, give or take an inch or two – with collar-length sandy hair and a broad, muscular frame. Dressed in black boardies and navy long sleeved shirt, he had looked intimidating when he'd answered the door and both men had stood a little straighter as they explained who they were and the reason for their visit. At the mention of his murdered fiancée's name, Justin's entire demeanor had changed and he'd gone from formidable to looking downright depressed in a matter of seconds.

Toying with his shirt cuff, Justin keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the floor as he tells Danny, "Of course. Anything I can do to help." Clearing his throat, he turns to look at the framed photograph of Julie on the coffee table in front of him. Picking it up, he runs a finger lovingly over her face before he adds, "I'm not sure what good it's going to do, though. I already gave my statement to HPD."

"We just want to go over a few things," Steve tells him, pushing away from the corner where he was leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. "You and Julie had just gotten engaged. Is that right?"

Justin smiles wistfully. "Yes. Jules and I were high school sweethearts. I proposed while we were on the mainland visiting her parents – she wasn't expecting it but she said yes right away."

"So, you grew up with Julie, you knew what she was like. Was it normal for her to go several hours without contacting anyone?"

Setting the photo of Julie in his laps, Justin nods tearfully. "Julie was impulsive. That's what I loved about her – once she got an idea in her head that was it. She wouldn't let it go and God help anyone who tried to stand in her way. When she didn't come home, I thought she was still with Ashley. I never thought…" He chokes, swallowing hard against a wave of fresh tears.

"Was there any reason for you to think that?" Steve asks.

Exhaling shakily, Justin shakes his head. "No," he admits softly. "I guess I just assumed she's had a bit too much to drink and that she was at Ashley's sleeping it off." Burying his face in his hands, he sniffs loudly and moans, "Man, that is so messed up."

"Look, I understand this is difficult for you," Danny says, consolingly. Clearing his throat, the detective looks over his shoulder at his partner before turning back to the sobbing young man in front of him. "But, in order for us to find the guy that did this, we need as much information as possible. With that in mind, can we talk about what happened the night Julie went missing? In your statement, you said that you stayed at home instead of going out with the girls."

"I had to be up early the next morning." Taking off his glasses, Justin sniffs and wipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"For work?" Danny prompts him.

"Yeah," Justin replies quickly. "I had an early meeting." Keeping his head low, he glances at the two men furtively as he pushes his glasses up over the bridge of his nose; he can feel the dark-haired man's laser-sharp eyes studying him from across the room so he keeps his head, clearing his throat awkwardly as he runs his fingers through the front of his hair; the sleeve of his shirt is slightly too short and it rides up, exposing the skin on the underside of his wrist as he goes to push the hair from his face.

Steve can just about make out the intricate black and grey tribal tattoo that appears to run the length of Justin's forearm under the thick smears of diaper rash cream. "New ink?" he asks casually, gesturing towards the tattoo. The delicate skin over Justin's wrist looks pink and inflamed, suggesting it's a recent addition.

"Uh, yeah," Justin mumbles, tugging his sleeve down over his hand. Fidgeting, he glances sideways at the door before meeting Steve's eye. "Jules always wanted one. She talked about us getting one together but I wanted to surprise her. I made the appointment for next month but they phoned last week to say they'd had a cancellation and the appointment was mine if I wanted it."

"It looks awesome, man. They did a good job, from what I can see," Steve tells him, clapping his hands and rubbing the palms together. "Well, I think that's everything we need for now. We'll be in touch if there's anything else." Catching Danny's eye, he tilts his head in the direction of the door and reaches out to shake Justin's hand as his partner pushes himself up out of the low chair.

'What are you doing?' Danny questions silently, eyeing Steve suspiciously over his shoulder as they walk in single file along the dark narrow hall towards the front door. He catches his partner's subtle headshake and rolls his eyes as he waits for Justin to fumble with the security chain on the door.  
"After you, babe," he says, motioning for Steve to go on ahead of him. He follows the former SEAL over the threshold into the midday sun and then groans when the taller man stops abruptly at the top of the porch steps.

"Hey," Steve says, turning on his heel to look back at Justin. He smiles encouragingly as the young man hover in the doorway uncertainly. "What's the name of that ink place you went to? I just remembered, a friend of mine is moving out here from the mainland and he's looking for someone to finish off his sleeve."

 **H50*H50*H50**

"He's lying to us. There's no way that tattoo is a week old." Steve strides down the path towards the street leaving Danny lagging several feet behind and the detective breaks into a job to catch up with his partner and his ridiculously long-striding legs.

"Slow down for a second, would you?" he snaps. "What makes you think he's lying?

Huffing, Steve reaches the end of the path and roughly shoves the metal gate open. "I have tattoos, Danny. I know what a week-old tattoo looks like," the former SEAL grouses as he steps out onto the pavement.

"What's your point, Steven?" Danny asks snippily, throwing his hands in the air. "Those of us who find absolutely no pleasure in voluntarily being stabbed a thousand times need you to explain just exactly where it is you're going with this."

"The skin around Justin's tattoo is still inflamed," Steve points out. "Most like, it's because the tattoo artist used shading to make the design stand out; white ink doesn't take as easily as black so they tend to use more pressure and go over the area several times. If the skin is still inflamed, the tattoo is 24 hours old, max."

"Okay," Danny concedes. "So he's lying about the tattoo. Why?"

"Hey, guys! Did you get anything?" Steffi calls brightly from where she's sat on the curb in front of the Camaro. Breathing slightly faster than normal, she's ditched her suit jacket and is fanning her face with both hands, unlike Tony, who's leaning against the passenger-side door looking as cool as a cucumber despite the 100-degree heat.

Steve eyes the reporter's sweaty face suspiciously as she struggles to her feet and twists awkwardly to brush the dust off the back of her pants. Frowning, he rubs a hand over his face and tells her, "Get in the car," before turning away and stepping down off the curb.

"Where are we going now?" Steffi asks, her eyes shining with excitement as she watches the former SEAL skirt around the front of the car. Folding himself into the driver's seat, he slams the door shut behind him, making the young woman wince. "Did I do something?" she asks, nervously playing with her hair as she turns to the blond detective stand beside her.

"Just ignore him," Danny tells her, reaching for the passenger side door handle. Door open, he steps back to let Tony squeeze through the gap into the back seat and then motions for Steffi to hurry up and join him. "C'mon, we've got something."


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks to everyone who's favorited, followed and reviewed. It's really appreciated._

 _To the person who asked why I've reposted this - I wasn't happy with how the original version was written so I deleted it. Then I started writing Ho'omau (Persist, Persevere) - I got the idea for it when I was thinking about what I was going to do with this. 'Ho'omau' kinda took off and I tentatively asked if anyone would be interested in reading the story that spawned it - a few people said yes so, here it is... Hope that helps. :)_

* * *

 _Thursday, 1321 hours.  
_ _Five-0 HQ, Iolani Palace._

"Chin, what have you got?" Steve calls as he pushes through the outer doors into the officer. Leaning over the smart table, the lieutenant glances up as the former SEAL approaches.

"Hey, so, it turns out that Justin was telling the trust when he told you there's a tattoo place on Kuhio Avenue. There's a problem though…" Turning back to the computer, he swipes a finger across the desktop to send his search onto the monitor overhead and then takes a step back to look up at the map on the screen.

Danny frowns as the area depicting Waikiki is dotted with red pins. "There's more than one studio?" he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looks to the cousins for confirmation.

"Yeah, brah," Kono says, nodding. "Four on Kuhio Avenue and the same again within walking distance."

Taking a step closer, Steve mirrored Danny's pose and looked at Chin across the computer screen. "Are those the only studios on the island?"

"No," he replies, adjusting the zoom until all of Oahu is visible. "The majority are in Waikiki but there's a few out towards Pearl City and if you expand the search to look even further afield, there are places on the North Shore and in Kailua, too."

"So, where the hell do we start?" Danny asks, lacing his fingers behind his head as he watches the little red dots reappear on the screen above his head.

"Good question, brah," Chin says, turning to look at McGarrett, who leans his forearms on the edge of the smart table. "How do you want to do this?"

Propping his head up on one hand, Steve taps his index finger against the screen as he studies the spread of dots and then decides, "It makes sense to start in Waikiki. It'll be quicker if we split the locations between us."

"I'll take Kono and head out towards Diamond Head," Chin offers, pulling his car keys from the pocket of his jeans. "We'll go to South Shore Ink and work our way round to Rock Star Tattoos and Piercings."

"Thanks, man," Steve says gratefully. "If you can print me off a list of names and addresses, Danny and I will start on Ala Moana Boulevard and meet you somewhere in the middle." Pushing himself upright, he glances at the map one last time and then asks, "Any questions?"

"What happens if Kuhio turns out to be a bust?" Kono asks quietly, catching her boss' eye when he turned to look at his team around the table.

Steve shrugs. "Then we work our way around the island until we find what it is we're looking for."

 _Thursday, 1406 hours.  
Sacred Art Tattoo, Ala Moana Boulevard._

"Him? The heavyset tattoo artist asks as he leans over to squint at the photo Steve's holding. Shaking his head, he snaps on a fresh pair of latex gloves and starts smearing Vaseline over the purple stencil on the inside of his customer's wrist. "Sorry, brah," he says with a shrug. "I never seen that guy before."

"Well that was a waste of time," Danny grumbles, screwing his face up against the bright Hawaiian sunshine as he follows Steve out onto Ala Moana Boulevard. He wipes the sweat from his forehead onto the sleeve of his shirt and then asks, "Where to next?"

Beside him, Steve checks his list. "It's called Custom Tattooing By Adam," he says, flattening the sheet of paper over the top of his thigh to score a line through Victorian Tattoo and Sacred Art Tattoo. Shoving the list back in his pocket, he adds, "It's just around the corner. Hey, where are you going?" Steve frowns at Danny's retreating back as the detective starts walking in the wrong direction with Tony and a wilted-looking Steffi following close behind.

"The car's this way," Danny points out, taking a few backwards steps as he hooks him thumb over his shoulder. "On Ala Wai. Where you parked it."

"But it'll take us less than two minutes to walk," Steve argues, which results in his partner scowling at him.

"It's hot."

"Okay, so?"

"It's 110-degrees in the shade," Danny snaps, stopping abruptly in the middle of the pavement. "My car has air-conditioning and – What are you doing?" he demands when Steve pulls his cell phone from his pocket, glances at the caller ID and then starts walking in the direction of the car without a word. "Hello, Earth to Steven?"

Steve sidesteps him as he answers the call. "Yeah, we'll be there," he assures the person on the other end of the line before hanging up.  
"That was Fong," he tells Danny, shoving his phone back in his pocket. "He's about to start printing Julie Wilson's phone."

"What about this?" Danny calls as the taller man marches off along Ala Moana Boulevard towards the canal.

"What?"

"What do you mean, what?" Danny mutters mulishly, wiping his face on his shirt. He points up at the red and white Sacred Art Tattoo sign on the side of the building and tells Steve, "I'm sweating my ass off scouring the street of Waikiki because we're looking for a tattoo studio that may or may not have been visited by a guy you think lied to us about his involvement in the death of his girlfriend. Any of that ringing a bell, Rambo?"

"It's the _Navy._ Rambo was in the Army," Steve grumbles halfheartedly, glancing down at his watch. "Look, we weren't going to get round everywhere on our list today, anyways," he reasons. "I'll ask Chin and Kono to take over while we go talk to Fong. We can head back to HQ when we're done."

Danny narrows his eyes at his partner and points to Steffi and Tony, who are standing a few feet away in the shade of one of the giant palms that line both sides of the long street. "And pray tell, Steven, what do you plan on doing with them when we get back to HQ? You can't just leave them there until Chin and Kono turn up." Folding his arms over his chest, he looks at Steve expectantly.

"Dunno," Steve says with a frown. "I'll ask Duke to talk to them about how Five-0 liaises with HPD, or something."

"Duke…?" the detective questions. He can't think of a better suggestion himself so he exhales and runs both hands over the top of his hair before telling Steve, "Yeah, okay."

"Okay?" Steve echoes, surprised by the lack of argument as Danny strides past him. Nodding sharply, he turns to follow his partner up Ala Moana Boulevard towards the canal, muttering, "Okay, good," under his breath.

Despite the heat, the sidewalk is packed with tourists and Steve, Danny, Steffi and Tony are forced onto the narrow patch of grass in front of the Finnish Consulate to pass the long winding queue of people waiting to board a bright yellow tram car, whose colored signs promise the 'Ultimate Hawaiian Experience'.  
Veering off to the right before the bridge of the Ala Wai Canal, they follow the narrow winding path down onto the canal bank and then stroll along the pavement in the shade of the yellow-flowered trees that line the road. Bright pockets of sunlight burst out from under the canopy of leaves above them and squints against the glare, bringing an up to his face to shield his eyes.

"What's with the face?" he asks when they stop next to the Camaro, noting the frown on Steve's face.

"I don't have a face, Danny," the former SEAL retorts, digging in his pocket for the key. He unlocks the doors and reaches for the door handle. Pausing with one foot resting on the sill, he glowers at his partner over the top of the Camaro. "Fine, I have 'a face.' Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Danny snarks as he steps off the curb and checks both ways before skirting around the front of the Camaro to the passenger side. "Can we go now? The crime lab has air-conditioning and I, for one, would very much like to get out of this sweatbox and back to normality. And just so we're clear, this right here." He motions between himself and Steve. "Does not mean I agree with whatever crazy plan you've currently got floating around in that rationality-free zone you call a brain."

Steffi whines audibly when Steve opens his mouth to protest. She's sweltering in her long-sleeve blouse and heavy cotton pants despite the cooling breeze coming up the canal from Malama Bay and she wails, "Oh, my God… Why can't they just get in the car, already?" to Tony as she tugs her shirt away from her sweat-dampened skin. "It's, like, a million degrees out here and they're standing about arguing like an old married couple."

Huffing impatiently, she twists her long dark hair into a messy pile and holds it in place with one hand while she fans her face with the other. Letting her gaze wander, she meets Steve's eye over the top of the Camaro.

"Is there a problem?" he asks tersely.

Steffi's eyes grow wide and she stutters, "Uh, no. I was just…" Swallowing hard under the former SEAL's penetrating gaze, she lets her hands drop to her sides and shrugs awkwardly. Her cutesy routine has obviously reached its limit with the Five-0 commander. "Umm… Shotgun?" she calls lamely.

 _Thursday, 1427 hours.  
HPD Crime Lab._

"I can't believe you made me sit in the back," Danny mutters mutinously as he pushes through the main door into the air-conditioned lobby of the crime lab. "And in my own car."

"What did you expect me to do, Danny?" Steve asks tiredly. "She kept going on about how she was two seconds away from passing out and if you want to get technical, she did call shotgun." He stops in front of the bank of elevators along the back wall and presses the 'up' button before standing back. "You're being over sensitive," he adds, watching as the numbers on the digital screens above each set of doors climbs and falls.

" _I'm_ over-sensitive?" the Jersey native snarks. "You think I'm being _over-sensitive?"_

"Yeah." Steve shrugs. "A little bit." He glances to the right when a quiet 'ding' signals the arrived of an elevator car. "Down here," he says, pointing towards the open door at the far end of the hall.

Danny follows him, hissing, "I'm _not_ over-sensitive so you can just stop right there, Super SEAL. Because the last time we had this little chat, I ended up getting shot."

"You got shot before we even had that conversation," Steve reminds him, reaching forwards to hold the door for Steffi and Tony. Leaning back against the cool metal of the handrail, he folds his arms across his chest and lets his head fall back against the wall with a quiet 'thud'. "And I said I was sorry, so let it go, okay? Can you do that?"

Danny huffs and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Fine, but just so you know, my acceptance of your so-called apology is still pending."

 **H50*H50*H50**

The lab Charlie Fong works in is bright lit and smells of antiseptic with just a hint of pine-scented air freshener. The room is large and has been split into sections, with individual workstations in the center and counters filled with expensive-looking equipment lining three of the walls. At the back of the room, a young Asian man in a white lab coat is sitting on a stool studying one of the two computer monitors that are sitting side-by-side on the worktop in front of him.

"Hey," Steve calls, skirting around an empty workstation. "Have you made a start on those prints?"

"Not yet," the man replies slowly, concentrating as he makes an adjustment to the image on the computer screen. "I thought I'd have another go at cleaning up the screen shot Kono sent over while I was waiting for you guys." He glances up when the former SEAL leans against the desk beside him, cocking his head in confusion when he spots the older man with the camera balanced on his shoulder and the young woman in pink who's hovering awkwardly behind Danny.

"Steffani Rossi and Tony Marshall," the detective supplies, shoving his hands back in his pocket as he steps closer to the desk to squint at the blurry image. By way of explanation, he adds, "It's election season."

"Ah…" Charlie nods in understanding and pushes up from his seat, smiling at Steffi, who's gazing around the room in wide-eyed wonder. His lab coat billows out behind him as he walks and when he gets to his workstation, he pulls his stool closer and reaches for his keyboard.

"As I was saying earlier, I had a go at cleaning up that still from your traffic cam footage," he tells them, tapping the 'enter' key to bring his computer out of sleep mode. "To get a decent look at your guy's face, I had to zoom in and remove the digital noise from the background. Once I sharpened the image I tried to correct some of the pixilation and, well… This is the best I could do." He shrugs apologetically and swivels round to look up at Danny and Steve. "Sorry, guys."

Their suspect's face is little more than a mass of pixels, his features so blurred that they resemble a grey-ish white mask. Sighing in disappointment, Steve rubs at the back of his neck.

"Okay, that's out. What about the phone?"

"I have it right here," Charlie says, producing a manila envelope from one of the drawers under his desk. He pulls a pair of gloves from the open box on the desktop and slips them on before sliding Julie's phone out onto the worktop, studying the glass screen through the plastic evidence bag. "Cyanoacrylate fuming is probably going to be our best bet," he tells Danny and Steve, pushing up from his seat. "I need to grab a few things before we get started."

A few minutes later he sets his supplies and Julie's phone down near the edge of the counter that runs the length of the wall. "Come on over. I just need to put a few drops of methylcyanoacrylate in the fuming chamber and then we'll be all set."

"Excuse me," Steffi cuts in, smiling sweetly as she stands on her tiptoes to see what's going on over Danny's shoulder. "What's that you're using? Methylcylate…?"

"Methyl-cyano-acrylate. You probably know it better as 'Superglue'," Charlie explains with a patient smile.

Steffi gazes at the tiny red and white tube the lab technician is holding in amazement. "Really? That's so cool," she exclaims, her dark eyes shining with excitement. "What do you use it for?"

Charlie beckons her closer and turns back to the fuming chamber. "Come on over here. It's easiest if I show you," he tells her, squeezing a few glue into an aluminum tray.

"'Scuse me," Steffi chirps as she goes to squeeze through the small gap between Steve and Danny. She twists so she doesn't elbow Steve in the stomach as she passes and then gasps when her foot slips on the tiled floor. Reaching out to break her fall, her hand connects with the items Charlie had set on top of the counter and she squeaks in horror as she watches the bag containing Julie Wilson's iPhone slip over the edge.

Strong hands grab her as Charlie lunges for the phone but the plastic evidence bag slips through his fingers and hits the floor with a deafening 'thud'. At the moment of impact, a series of cracks erupt across the iPhone's glass screen.

Tears prick at Steffi's eyes and she presses both hands to her mouth. "I'm _really_ sorry."


	4. Chapter 4

_Thursday, 1449 hours.  
_ _Charlie Fong's lab, HPD Crime Lab._

"I'm really sorry," Steffi gasps as Steve hauls her to her feet. When he releases his grip on her arm, the former SEAL closes his eyes and takes a steadying breath.

"How bad is it?" he demands, turning to look at Charlie as the younger man examines the damaged iPhone through the plastic evidence bag.

The lab tech shrugs noncommittally as he runs his thumb over the cracked screen. "It's chipped; we could end up with a larger number of candidates than we expected if the positions of any of the chips coincide with the location of the ridge characteristics on the prints."

Danny frowns. "Okay, I didn't understand a word of that. Could we maybe try that again in English, please?"

"AFIS works by identifying patterns in the print and comparing them to the records they have stored on their databases," Fong explains, holding the evidence bag up to the fluorescent tube light over his head. "With partial prints where the patterns are incomplete, the examiner has two options – one, they can guess the pattern type and run the risk of the candidate not making the list for comparison because the information they entered was incorrect or two, they can enter the partial print as a 'multiple type' and come back with a larger number of results because the search criteria isn't as specific."

"Great," Danny mutters snarkily. "So, in other words, we're no close to solving this case than we were first thing this morning."

Steve rubs a hand over his face. "Options?" he asks.

"We have two," Charlie tells him, setting the phone down in the middle of the counter. "We can run with whatever partial prints I can lift off the screen in the condition it's in just now. Or I can try to put the screen back together." Indicating the plastic evidence bag, he continues, "It's still sealed so all of the chips will be in the bottom of the bag. I can try to replace the fragments but there's no guarantee that we'll get a completed pattern. We could still end up with a partial print at the end of it."

Feeling Steve go tense beside him, Danny twists a hand in his partner's sleeve, ignoring the warning glare the SEAL threw at him.  
"How long would that take?" he asks, gesturing towards Julie's phone with his free hand. "Approximately."

Charlie looks down at the damaged screen. "If I start now and stay late, I could probably have something for you by late tomorrow morning. Would that work?" he asks, glancing warily at Steve.

"It'll have to," the former SEAL tells him bluntly. "Call me when you have something." With that, he yanks his arm out of Danny's grasp and marches towards the door, slamming it shut behind him.

 **H50*H50*H50**

"Where are you going?" Danny shouts, watching his partner storm down the corridor towards the lift lobby. "Steve!"

Ignoring him, Steve shoves the emergency exit door next to the elevators so hard that the sound of metal colliding with concrete echoes along the carpeted hallway. At the other end, Danny winces and curses under his breath. Watching the former SEAL diappear through the door, the detective curses again and breaks into a run, taking the steps two at a time as he races to catch up with his wayward partner.  
"Hey," he calls, grabbing Steve's arm when he catches up with the taller man just outside the main doors. "Hey!"

"What?" Steve growls, whipping round. Glaring at his partner, he turns and jerks his arm away before heading to the Camaro. When he gets there, he roughly pulls open the door, folds himself into the driver's seat and slams the door shut behind him.

Danny sighs and reaches for the passenger-side handle. Pulling the door open, he ducks down to look at Steve. "Could you maybe not take your temper out on my car?"

The former SEAL scowls. "Get in the car, Danny," he orders, turning the key in the ignition.

"What?"

Steve shifts into Drive and revs the engine. "Either get in or shut the door. You've got five seconds – five… four… three… two…"

Danny drops into the passenger seat and slams the door shut behind him, telling his partner, "You need help. Serious help, from a professional."

Steve ignored him and guns the engine. The Camaro's tyres squeal in protest, leaving long black skid marks on the light grey road surface when he peels out of the crime lab's parking lot. Moving almost automatically, Danny checks the wing mirror on his side and sighs in relief when he sees that the road behind them is clear.  
"Okay, I'm just gonna come out and say it," the detective declares after several minutes of tense silence. "What the hell is wrong with you, you Neanderthal _animal_? You don't just drive off and leave someone stranded! Jesus, Steve…"

The former SEAL chuckles humorlessly. "Trust me, you wouldn't have liked the alternative."

"Denning's going to have a field day when he finds out, you know that, right?" Danny questions. "Somehow, I can't see him being overly sympathetic once you explain to him why you went off on one and scarred that poor girl for life."

"She destroyed evidence, Danny! Our entire investigation could be compromised because of her goddamn shoes."

"They were Jimmy Choos," the Jersey native points out and then rolls his eyes when Steve scowls at him. Shifting in his seat, he clears his throat and continues, "But that's not important. Look, I know you don't want to hear this right now but you're pinning far too much hope on this phone being the piece of evidence that solves this case. There was never any guarantee that we were going to find anything."

"You're not helping," Steve mutters.

Danny shrugs. "I wasn't trying to. Trying to help would imply that I care about the impact your little tantrum is going to have on all of our careers once Denning's done ripping you – and Five-0 – to shreds."

The rest of the journey passes in silence, with the Jersey native gazing out the window at the passing scenery until Steve pulls the Camaro into the parking lot outside the Iolani Palace.

"She's not worth it, Steve," the detective tells his friend quietly, noting the tense jaw and white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "Denning's looking for any excuse to shut us down again. Don't let this girl give him one."

 _Thursday, 1534 hours.  
_ _Sacred Heart Academy._

"Uncle Steve!"

Grace squeals in excitement when she spots her adopted uncle leaning against the side of his dark blue truck. Her signature pigtails bounce as she trots down the steps in front of her school and she launches herself at the former SEAL, wrapping her small arms tightly around his neck when he catches her.

"Hi, Gracie," he says, reaching out to take the overly-large backpack from the young girl as she slips the shoulder straps down over her arms. "Did you have a good day at school, sweetheart?" _  
_

"Uhuh," Grace tells him earnestly as she clambers up into the cab and plonks herself down on the middle seat. "Miss Casey made meringues in science class and she let me pick the color. It was awesome," she exclaims happily, swinging her legs back and forth against the seat back.

Steve leans into the cab to set the young girl's bag down at her feet. "That does sound pretty awesome," he agrees as he reaches across to help with her seatbelt. "What color did you choose? I'm gonna say… pink?"

"Nope," Grace giggles and shakes her head. "Kalani wanted pink but Miss Casey said it was to me 'cause I got an A-plus on my homework and I chose blue."

"An A-plus, huh? Does that mean we're stopping at Kamekona's on the way back to the house?" Steve asks with a smile, holding his hand up for Grace to high-five.

Grace nods enthusiastically and reminds him, "You promised. You said I got an A on my homework we could go for shave ice and I got an A- _plus_."

Steve eyes her skeptically. "I did? Are you sure?"

"Uncle Steeeeeve…." Grace scolds halfheartedly as a fresh torrent of giggles send her rocking forwards against her safety belt and Steve holds his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay," he relents, flashing the young girl a genuine smile as he pushes himself out of the cab and then rests a hand on the roof. "Hey, Gracie, I need to go talk to Kono and Uncle Chin real quick before we go get that shave ice, okay? I'll take you to your mom's afterwards so you can get your stuff."

"Okay," Grace agrees with a shrug.

 _Thursday, 1555 hours.  
Five-0 HQ, Iolani Palace._

Kono looks up when her boss pushes through the glass door into HQ and then ushers Grace into the outer office. "Hi, Grace," she calls, smiling at the young girl as she approaches the smart table. "I didn't think we were going to see you until tomorrow."

"Slight change of plan. Rachel's flight got changed and I told Danny to take the rest of the day – he's out running some errands for Gracie's party," Steve tells her, bumping Grace's backpack further up onto his shoulder.

Kono grins. "Well, I guess _someone_ has to make sure you stay outta trouble when Danny's not around," she teases good-naturedly, winking at Grace.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Kono," Steve deadpans, rolling his eyes at the rookie. Turning to his adopted niece, he nudges her with his hip. "Okay, go get started on your homework," he instructs, letting her backpack slip down over his arm as he starts to chivvy her towards his office. "I'll be in once I'm done talking to Kono and Uncle Chin."

"So," Kono says innocently as the door to Steve's office swings shut. A small smile tugs at the corner of her mouth and she has to fight to keep her tone casual as she asks, "How did you get on at the crime lab?"

Glancing up from the smart table, Steve narrows his eyes at her suspiciously. "Something tells me you already know full well how it went," he grumbles, dropping his head back down to the computer screen to move a file to the trash.

"Yeah, brah," Kono grins. "Duke told me. I can't believe you drove off and left her there. More to the point, I can't believe Danny actually let you."

"I am capable of making decision without having to ask Danny's permission. You do realize that?" Steve tells her with a scowl.

Kono shrugs, still grinning. "Yeah, but – "

"What did you and Chin come up with?"

Rolling her eyes at her boss' lack of subtly, the youngest member of Five-0 leans over the smart table and starts typing keywords into the search box at the top of the screen. "We found the studio Justin went to," she reveals, selecting the file she'd been looking for. Sending the video to the overhead monitors, she taps the 'play' icon and checked the time stamp in the bottom left corner. "This is from one of the CCTV camera at Electric Paradise Tattoo on Kalakaua Avenue. They operate on a first come, first served basis – you turn up when they open, take your name and tell you what time to come back at. Justin's 'appointment' was at 10:25."

"So, he not only lied about having his appointment brought forward, he life about having on in the first place," Steve muses, watching Justin Conrad push through the door into the studio and start to flip through the racks of flash art that lines the back wall. "Does he look nervous to you?" he asks, frowning up at the screen when the video shows the young man glancing furtively at the CCTV camera over his shoulder.

Kono snorts. "Yeah, brah, he does," she agrees. "But he has a good reason to be." Winding the footage on, she lets her finger hover over the 'play' button. "There!" She pauses the video as one of the studio assistants appears with the stencil for Justin's tattoo. "Cody – that's the guy who resized the stencil – told me he has a, shall we say, _disagreement_ with one of the artists over the placement of Justin's new tattoo."

Kono minimizes the video player and selects a second file, opening it in a new window. "This was taken from the camera above the artist's workstation," she explains, inching the time bar across the screen until Justin followed an older bearded man into the frame. Standing back, she watches the two men arguing on the screen, Justin's movements become more and more agitated until, eventually, the tattoo artist shrugs and reaches for the young man's arm, turning it so that the underside of Justin's wrist is facing the camera.

She hits 'pause'. "Apparently Justin's cat took exception to being forced to stay outside the night before he got inked," she says wryly as she snaps a screenshot and zooms in, centering the frame on the jagged red scratch marks that are marring the pale skin on Justin's forearm.

Steve frowns. "Justin doesn't have a cat," he tells the rookie, studying the image on the screen carefully. "Danny's allergic. He would have said something."

"That's what we thought," Chin chimes in as he strolls out of his office and comes to stand at the smart table next to his cousin. "So I called Max and asks him to take a look at our vic's hands. We should within the next hour or so."

Steve nods. "Good work, guys," he tells the cousins, pushing away from the computer table. "Let me know what he comes back with. I'll be in my office."


	5. Chapter 5

_Thursday, 1638 hours.  
Five-0 HQ, Iolani Palace._

"Where is he?" Steffi demands as she stomps through the main door and grinds to an abrupt half in front of the smart table. Tapping her Jimmy Choo-clad foot against the tiled floor, she folds her arms over her chest a looks at Kono expectantly. "I said, where. Is. _He_?"

Kono glances up from the computer screen, taking in the petite reporter's flushed face and clenched fists. "If you mean Steve, he's in his office. But I wouldn't go in there just now if I were you – he's kinda in the middle of something."

Steffi scowls at her and then turns on her heel, marching past the taller woman as she heads straight for the former SEAL's office.

"Suit yourself," Kono mutters under her breath as she turns back to the smart table. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

 **H50*H50*H50**

Raised voices coming from outside make both Steve and Grace look up from the young girl's algebra workbook. Steve straightens from where he'd been leaning of Grace's shoulder supervising her doing her homework and groans when he spots Steffi storming through the foyer towards where Kono is working at the smart table.

"Who's that?" Grace asks curiously, peering through the glass door at the glamorous stranger.

"The governor asked her to work with us for a few days," Steve tells her, dropping the pencil he'd borrowed on the desk next to the open workbook. "I need to go deal with her. Do you think you can work through the last few problems on your own?"

"I think so," Grace decides with a nod, reaching for her exercise book. Pulling it closer, she bends over the open page and her brow furrows as she starts to work her way through the problem in front of her.

"I'll just be outside," Steve tells the young girl as he strides towards the door. "If you get stuck, leave it and move onto the next one. We can go over it later."

 **H50*H50*H50**

" _You..."_

Steffi rounds on Steve the moment the dark-haired man steps out of his office. Her dark eyes are flashing angrily and she jabs a finger at the former SEAL's chest as she snarls, "Where the hell do you get off leaving me stranded in the middle of Pearl City?"

Steve pushes her hand away. "Don't touch me," he warns. "My entire investigation could have been compromised because of – "

"It was an _accident_ ," the reporter snaps, interrupting him. "And you couldn't wait to use it against me, could you?"

Standing well within earshot, Kono cringes and clears her throat before awkwardly mumbling, "I'm gonna go, give you guys some privacy." Pushing away from the smart table, the rookie half walks, half jogs towards the sanctuary of her office and Steve waits until he hears the door close before he throws a pointed look in the direction of Steffi's designer high-heeled pumps.

"You know, you dress like some hotshot reporter," he tells the young woman. "But you're not. In reality, you're just a spoiled brat who needs to grow up and realize that actions have consequences. I don't, for one minute, believe that you're as dumb as you want people to think."

"You just don't like that I made you look bad. Your ego obviously can't handle it," Steffi retorts childishly, putting her hands on her hips.

"This has nothing to with my ego," Steve snarls, slamming the palm of his hand against the smart table. "This is about Julie Wilson and her family – they're the victims here, not you. You hide behind your little cutesy routine and play the victim card but the truth is, you're so caught up in this deluded sense of self-importance you have that you don't realize the effect your actions have on the people around you."

Steffi visibly recoils at the outburst, taking a half step back and then ducking her head as the former SEAL eyes her with something akin to disgust.

"Do you know what the saddest thing is?" he asks her quietly. "It's that you don't even seem to care. Try, just for one second, to put yourself in Frank and Cheryl Wilson's shoes – their daughter, their only child, is dead and they want answers."

"Then, perhaps, I can be of some assistance?" a vaguely familiar voice interrupts from behind them.

Steve whips round and then relaxes when he recognizing the voice as belonging to the island's quirk medical examiner. "Max, what are you doing here?"

"I have the results of the tests you requested," the ME informs him, holding up a brown A4 envelope. "Lieutenant Kelly said you required them urgently."

"I do," Steve replies honestly. "But you could have phoned. You didn't need to come all this way."

"I don't trust phones. Shall we?"

"Uh, yeah… Sure." Steve motions for the ME to join him and then turns back to Steffi. "I need to get back to work," he tells her coolly. "We'll finish this later but until then, I suggest you stay out of my way."

Sniffling quietly, Steffi nods and turns on her heel, and Steve sighs when he catches sight of the young reporter scrubbing at her cheeks as she uses her shoulder to push her way out into the corridor outside.

"I'm sorry," Max interjects solemnly as Steffi disappears around the corner. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You didn't," Steve reassures him tiredly, rubbing a hand over his face. Resting a hip on the edge of the smart table, he gestures towards the envelope in the medical examiner's hand. "Please tell me you found something?"

"I assure you, Commander, I would not be here if that were not the case." Max empties the envelope's contents onto the top of the smart table and shuffled the papers into several neat little piles. "Lieutenant Kelly requested that a detailed examination of your victim's hands be carried out as soon as possible and I have the results here." He plucks an official-looking document from the table and holds it out for Steve to take. "My examination indicates the presence of defensive-type injuries to the victim's hands. She had several broken fingernails and there were abrasions to her knuckles and both palms."

"She fought back," Steve mutters, trying to piece together a picture of the attack using the diagram the ME had used to show the trauma inflicted on Julie Wilson's body.

Max nods. "Yes. Ferociously, it would appear, given the severity of her injuries."

Steve drops the preliminary report on the desktop and reaches for a photograph, spinning the A4-sized picture round to face himself. "Did you take fingernail scrapings?" he asks, sliding his hip off the table.

"I was just getting to that," Max says, shuffling through the mass of paperwork scattered across the smart table. "Ah, yes. Here we go." Brandishing a sheet of paper, the ME sets it down next to the photograph Steve is studying. "It's standard procedure to take scrapings from beneath the fingernails – it's not limited to cases where the victim appears to have fought back against their attacker. The scrapings taken from your victim's hands were tested for the presence of DNA and the results of the test came back as – "

The medical examiner breaks off and glances up from the sheet of paper as one of the glass doors at the end of the hall inches open; Steffi slides through the gap and keeps her head down as she creeps past the former SEAL and presses herself into the corner furthest from the smart table.

Steve ignores her. "Max…" he urges. "The test results?"

"The results… Yes. Apologies," Max says, turning back his paperwork. "The scrapings came back as positive for DNA. The profile indicates the part of the DNA found under your victim's fingernails came from a male."

"Male?" Steve questions, glancing up as the door to his office opens and Grace pokes her head through the gap. "Hey, Gracie," he says as the young girl slips around the heavy glass door. "You okay, sweetheart?"

"I've finished my homework," she announces, coming to stand next to the former SEAL, who quickly flips the photograph of Julie Wilson's body over before Grace can see it.

"Any problems?"

Grace shakes her head and then shrugs. "They were easy questions. Where's Uncle Chin and Auntie Kono?" she asks, glancing round the room at the vaguely familiar medical examiner and the pretty woman from earlier. "Does them not being here mean you're nearly done?"

"In their offices. And yes, I'm nearly done – I just need to finish up with Max and then we can go," Steve replies, gently tugging on one of Grace's braids before he fishes his phone out of his pocket. Holding it out to the young girl, he says, "I downloaded that Angry Birds game that you like - I bet you can't beat my high score."

"I beat Danno's," Grace tells him with a toothy grin as she takes the phone and starts walking back towards the Five-0 commander's office with it clutched tightly in her hand. "I bet I can beat yours, too, Uncle Steve."

When his office door swings shut, Steve mutters "Sorry, Danny had a few errands to run so I'm watching Grace until he gets back," to Max as he turns back to face him and then runs his thumbnail distractedly over his lower lip. "Where were we?"

"We were about to discuss the results of my examination." The medical examiner plucks a sheet of paper from the top of the smart table. "The DNA extracted from beneath your victim's fingernails came from a male donor," he repeats, setting the page down in front of Steve and pointing to the second DNA profile down. "The lab noted both male and female components in the sample – they're still processing the sample we extracted from the victim for comparison but they have promised me that the results will be available by tomorrow morning."

Steve nods gratefully and indicated the DNA profiling report. "Thanks, Max. Can I keep this? It'll make interesting reading for the judge when we apply for a warrant."

"Of course." Max pushes the page across the table. "I have a hard copy on my computer."

Leaning over the smart table, the doctor sweeps up the strewn pages with a wide, sweeping motion and slides the messy pile back into the brown envelope it came in. "The autopsy has been schedule for 8 AM tomorrow morning," Max tells the former SEAL as he straightens and tucks the bulging envelope under his arm. "You will have my official report by early afternoon, assuming there are no unforeseen complications. In the meantime, please don't hesitate to contact my office if I can be of any further assistance."

"Thanks," Steve says sincerely, walking side-by-side with Max as the ME heads for the door. "If I get my way, this guy's going down for murder one."

"Then I shall leave you to your investigation," the medical examiner says as the two men approach the door. Pushing out into the corridor, Max pauses with his hand on the handle and tips his head. "Good luck, Commander."

"Chin," Steve calls as he strides back through the foyer towards the smart table. "Come on out here for a second. You too, Kono." Typing the case number, 'Conrad' and the file ID into the search box at the top of the screen, he selects the screenshot of Justin's scratched forearm and sends it onto one of the overhead monitors as Kono pokes her head out around her office door.

"Is it safe?" she jokes, slipping through the narrow gap and coming to stand at Steve's side.

Steve scowls at her. "We called a truce - She stays out of my way and I don't arrest her for obstruction. Here." He pushes the DNA profile across the tabletop. "Julie Wilson struggled with her attacker; the scrapings Max took from under her fingernails came back as positive for tracers of DNA from a male donor."

Scanning the report over his cousin's shoulder, Chin frowns. "It says here that they weren't able to find a match in any of their databases," he points out, gauging the former SEAL's reaction.

"Doesn't matter. We have enough for a judge to sign off on an arrest warrant."

"Our evidence is circumstantial at best," the lieutenant argues and then Kono chips in, "Chin's right, Boss. We should hold off until we have something more concrete."

"If Fong comes back with a positive ID from the prints of Julie's iPhone tomorrow, we can have a warrant signed and waiting for us first thing Monday morning," Chin reasons, laying a calming hand on Steve's shoulder. "Without DNA for comparison, all we have tying Justin Conrad to Julie's murder is a dodgy alibi and a couple of scratches. No judge is going to sign off on a warrant based on that."

"You didn't see the state of that phone, Chin," Steve argues, his tone almost bitter. "We'll be lucky if Fong manages to put the screen back together, let alone find anything to run through AFIS." Staring up at the overhead monitor, the former SEAL sighs and runs a hand up over his face.

"Let's look at this objectively for a second, okay? Justin Conrad lied to us about his whereabouts the morning Julie's body was found. He has injuries consistent with Julie defending herself against him and we have a witness who's willing to swear to that in court. And then there's the fingernail scrapings Max took which came back positive for traces of male DNA. That's enough to show probable cause so I want the paperwork filed and in front of a judge tonight. We move on this tomorrow."

 **H50*H50*H50**

Catching a glimpse of Grace through Steve's office window, Kono smirks and turns back to the papers she's got spread out over the surface of the smart table.

"You've got competition, brah," she comments, watching the young girl's brow furrow as she carefully drags her index finger across the screen of her uncle's phone to pull the slingshot back in the game. Sliding her completed form across the table to her boss, she points to a space at the bottom and tells him, "Sign here."

Pulling the sheet closer, Steve scrawls his name across the bottom of the page and lets his pen fall onto the desktop. "Done," he declares, rolling his head over his shoulders. "Let's get out of here." Turning to Steffi, he says, "We're done for the day. See you tomorrow," and then walks towards his office, leaving the reporter to make her way towards the main door. Grace looks up from the couch when he shoulders his way through the door.

"Home time," he tells her, skirting around the edge of his desk to shut down his computer. Start getting your things together – I just need to lock up and then we can head to your mom's to pick up your stuff."

"My bag's packed," Grace says, glancing away from the game momentarily as her uncle strides past her again to shut down HQ for the night. In the main office space, Steve checks the door to the weapons locker and turns off the lights before turning his attention to the smart table. Clicking on the icon in the top left corner of the screen, he selects 'Shut Down' from the drop down box and then hits 'OK' when the computer automatically starts counting down from sixty. When the screen goes blank he turns back towards his office and holds the door open while he motions for Grace to get up from where she's still sat on the couch playing Angry Birds.


	6. Chapter 6

_Thursday, 1900 hours.  
McGarrett home, Piikoi Street._

"Uncle Steve?" Grace jumps down off the bottom step of the staircase and comes to stand next to where her uncle is sprawled messily across the length of the couch, beer in hand. She holds up a comb and two hair ties "Can you do my hair?"

Having spent the better part of an hour out on the McGarrett's private beach, her long brown hair is wet from the shower Steve insisted she take and the damp patch on the back of her t-shirt is growing steadily. Steve pushes himself upright and flicks the TV from the History Channel to Nikelodeon.

"I can try," he tells the young girl, setting his beer down so he can take the comb and bobbles from Grace's hands. Motioning for her to sit on the floor in front of him, he asks, "Plain or French?"

"French, please," Grace replies, crossing her legs and wriggling until her back is pressed against the base of the sofa. "Can you do pigtails?"

"We'll soon find out." Shifting to the edge of the couch, Steve parts his niece's hair down the middle and pushes one half to the side, holding the comb between his teeth as he divides the hair at Grace's crown into sections. "Tilt your head back," he instructs around a mouthful of plastic as he pulls the braid snug. "Is that too tight?"

"Nope." Grace's eyes are glued to the television as Spongebob and Patrick get up to mischief at the Krusty Krab, Angry Birds forgotten.

 **H50*H50*H50**

Mary nudges the front door closed with her hip and her smile becomes a smirk when she sees her tough-as-boots older brother carefully pulling little Gracie's hair into a running braid. "I'm impressed," she drawls, letting her bag slide down off her shoulder as she drops into the ancient leather recliner and leans forwards to snag Steve's Longboard from the coffee table. "Is that what they're teaching at SEAL school these days?"

"Very funny," her brother grumbles halfheartedly as his fingers slip near the end of Grace's plait. Pulling a face and says, "Make yourself useful and pass me that hair tie, would you?"

Mary rolls her eyes and drains the Longboard before setting the empty bottle down at her feet. "Here," she says, holding the elastic out for her brother to take and then watches as he ties off the braid before leaning back to survey his work. "How come you're watching her on a school night? Where's Jersey?"

"Danny?" Steve questions, frowning in concentration as he divides the other half of Grace's hair into sections. "He's… Hold on."

"Danno's shopping for my party tomorrow," Grace pipes up, glancing away from the TV momentarily. "He wants it to be a surprise so he asked Uncle Steve to pick me up from school."

"' _Uncle'_ Steve?" Mary smirks and raises an incredulous eyebrow. "That's cute." She laughs at the scowl that's aimed in her direction and leans forwards to scoop the empty beer bottle from the floor, holding it up over her shoulder as she heads for the kitchen. "Want another one?"

"Yeah," Steve calls, bringing the bottom section of hair across over the top of Grace's braid. When his sister sets an opened Longboard down in front of him he mutters, "Thanks," and pulls the plait tight against Grace's head as Mary curls up in the recliner on his right.

"What are you doing tonight?" she asks as she melts into the seat cushion with a sigh.

Steve shrugs. "Don't know. Ask Gracie," he says, plaiting down as far as he can and then holding the end of the braid between his fingers. "Hair tie."

"Chinese and Wreck It Ralph?" Grace asks hopefully, holding still as Steve ties off the end of her plait and then reaches around her for his Longboard. She twists to look at her uncle over her shoulder. "Mommy and Stan never order takeout and Danno always gets pizza."

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he tells her, leaning back against the couch. Rolling his head over the seatback, he turns to his sister and asks, "Do you want anything?"

Mary shakes her head and takes a sip from her Longboard. "I'm going out. I'll get something later."

"You're going out? Who with?" Steve questions, frowning at his sister over the arm of the couch.

" _Really, Steve?_ " Mary rolls her eyes at her big brother's over-protective streak and hooks a finger under the shoulder strap on her bag. "I'm going to go get ready. Have fun, guys." Swinging her bag up over her shoulder, she turns and trots up the stairs, offering Steve a mock salute when she reaches the door to her childhood bedroom. Seconds later, the door slams shut behind her.

Steve shakes his head and drains his Longboard, then pulls Grace to her feet as he stands. "I'm going to go grab the takeout menu," he tells her, tugging on one of her braids. "Be right back."  
In the kitchen he rummages through the pile of takeout menus he's amassed in the months since Danny decided the former SEAL could be trusted to be left in charge of his precious Monkey and calls, "Do you know what you want for dinner?" through to Grace in living room.

Having stolen her uncle's spot on the couch, Grace glances away from the TV just long enough to shout back, "Chicken chow mien with thin noodles, please." Swinging her legs back and forth against the base of the couch, she adds, "Can we get spring rolls, too?"

"Whatever you want, Gracie." Steve pulls the local Chinese takeout's menu from the pile and scans the options on the back page as he wanders back through to the living room and eases himself down onto the couch. As soon as he's settled, Grace lifts his arm and wriggles until she finds a comfortable position flush against his side.

"Is it okay if I go see if Mary needs any help getting ready?" she asks, fidgeting with the ends of her braids. "We could leave the movie until tomorrow so Danno can watch it with us."

"That sounds like a good idea," Steve says, checking his watch. Pressing a quick kiss to the top of Grace's head, he tells her, "Okay, go see what Mary's up. I'm gonna go take a quick shower and then I'll phone our order in."

 **H50*H50*H50**

"Thanks. Keep the change." Steve takes the bag from the delivery driver and hands over a few bills before nudging the door closed with his hip and heading for the kitchen. "Grace, dinner," he shouts as he walks past the staircase.

Grace is already halfway down the stairs, having heard the doorbell, and she busies herself finding glasses and cutlery while she waits for her uncle to unpack their dinner. "Can we eat in front of the TV?" she asks, standing on her tiptoes to fill her glass with water from the cold tap.

"Sure. Go on through – I'll be there in a second," Steve replies, not looking up as he pulls containers from the bag and sets the opened boxes down on the counter in front of him. A few minutes later, he sets the spring rolls down on the coffee table in the living room and does a double take as he goes to hand Grace her chicken chow mien. "What's that stuff on your face?"

Grace twirls noodles around her fork, unaware of the frown on her uncle's face. "It's blusher. Auntie Mary gave me a makeover – look, she painted my nails, too." The young girl drops her fork to waggle her fingers under Steve's nose. "They're Ladybugs."

"I can see that," Steve says, already imagining hoe Danny's going to react when he returns to find Grace looking a lot older than her tender eight years; he's already been subjected to several of Danny's signature rants on the topic of his precious Monkey growing up too fast and he really doesn't want to have to sit through another so he steels himself and asks, "How hard it is to get that stuff off?"

Grace shrugs in response so Steve uses his thumb to scrub at the powdery pink tint and then frowns when the young girl protests loudly and squirms under his touch. When the color stubbornly refuses to fade, he holds out his hand for Grace's takeout carton and tells her, "You need to go wash that stuff off your face. Go do it now, please, before your dad gets here."

When the puppy eyes make an appearance, the former SEAL sighs and sets Grace's carton down on the coffee table, telling her, "That's not going to work this time, Gracie. I'm immune, sweetheart – you've already used up your quota for today." He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. "Get a move on."

 **H50*H50*H50**

With a finger hooked under the straps of her heels and her clutch under her arm, Mary trots down the stairs and presses herself against the wall when she meets Grace halfway. Pausing on the bottom step, she turns and eyes the little girl's slumped shoulders curiously. "What's up with her?"

"I told her to go wash all that crap off her face," Steve tells her. "And while we're on the subject, do you think you maybe went a little overboard? She's eight, Mare, not eighteen."

Rolling her eyes, Mary steps off the ledge and pads across the tiled floor in her bare feet, asking, "What's the big deal? It's just a bit of make-up."

"Not to Danny, it's not," her brother says, reaching for his foot. Sinking down onto the couch, he props his bare feet up on the coffee table in front of him.

"Well then, Jersey needs to relax," Mary decides with a shrug as she lets her shoes fall to the floor. Holding onto the back of the recliner, she nudges at one of the fallen stilettos with her foot and hops on the spot as she leans down to pull the strap up over her heel. "I mean, if he goes off on one over a bit of mascara, what's he gonna be like when Grace starts dating?

Steve laughs. "Why don't you ask him and find out?" he suggests around a mouthful of noodles. "Just do me a favor and make sure I'm not there when you do it. I'd rather not be around when you ask him the one question that's pretty much guaranteed to induce a heart attack."

Mary pulls a face as her brother swaps his takeout carton for his Longboard. "Like I said, Jersey _really_ needs to learn how to relax," she repeats, dropping into the recliner from straight legs. "He probably just needs to get some. Y'know, find an outlet for some of the pent up frustration?" She waggles her eyebrows suggestively and then snorts when her brother nearly chokes on his noodles.

"Jesus, Mare," he splutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Grace is upstairs – she could hear you."

Mary rolls her eyes as she drawls, "Would you relax? Listen… the tap is still running. She didn't hear a thing."

"You better hope she didn't because there's no way in hell I'm having 'the talk' with her."

"You're such a prude," Mary laughs, swatting at her brother's arm with her clutch purse. "It's just sex, Steve. You know, boy meets girl, girl takes boy home for a g- "

Steve grimaces and interrupts, "I will actually pay you to stop talking."

"No, you won't." Flipping her hair over one shoulder, Mary checks her phone and then stands, tugging the hem of her short dress down towards her knees. "That's my ride," she announces, checking her purse for her cell phone and keys. "We're meeting some of Kono's friends at a club after dinner so I'll probably be back late."

"How are you getting back?"

Mary shrugs. "A car, probably," she says offhandedly, tucking her clutch under her arm. "Or Kono said something about one of her cousins coming to pick us up."

"Call me if you get stuck," Steve says. "And promise me you won't go off by yourself."

Rolling her eyes, Mary leans over the arm of the couch to press a kiss to her brother's cheek, saying, "What am I, like, six years old? I'll be _fine_ … I promise to call if I get stuck, okay?" She uses the arm of the couch to push herself upright and then pulls a face when a horn blares. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," she mutters, pushing her fringe out of her eyes.

Reaching for the door handle, she shouts, "Bye, Grace," over her shoulder and then steps over the threshold onto the porch. Pausing as she goes to pull the door closed behind her, she tells her brother, "Don't wait up, 'kay?"

 _Thursday, 2136 hours._

"Anybody home?" Danny pokes his head around the front door and spots his daughter sprawled out on the couch with her feet in his partner's lap.

"Hi, Danno," Grace whispers before holding a finger up to her lips. "Shhh, Uncle Steve's asleep."

"I can see that," Danny smirks as he closes the door with a quiet _snick_ and comes to perch on the coffee table across from his daughter and the slumbering SEAL. "Looks like you wore him out, Monkey."

"Yup," Grace agrees happily. "We got shave ice and went swimming and then Auntie Mary did my nails." Giggling, she glances at the other end of the couch as she tells her dad, "We put Wreck It Ralph on after dinner but Uncle Steve missed almost the whole movie; he fells asleep before Ralph even left his game and he didn't even wake up when King Candy tried to stop Vanellope finishing the race."

"Well, lucky for Super SEAL, we have the DVD so he can watch Ralph and Vanellope kick Kind Candy's sorry butt in all their Technicolor glory just as soon as he wakes up." Clapping his hands together, Danny rubs the palms over the tops of his thighs and then pushes himself upright. "Go grab your stuff, okay?" he instructs his daughter. "You've got school in the morning and it's way past your bedtime already."

"Okay," Grace agrees, reaching forwards to free her legs from beneath Steve's arm. "Danno's here," she tells the former SEAL when he stirs and mumbles something under his breath. "I'm going to go get my stuff."

Danny smirks when his partner turns to squint up at him and quips, "Morning, Sunshine. Nice of you to join us."

Steve ignores the wisecrack to scrub at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "'Time is it?" he asks, using the arm of the couch to push himself up. "D'you get everything?"

"Twenty to ten. And yes, I did," Danny tells him, easing himself down onto the sofa next to his partner. "Thanks for watching Grace," he says, nudging Steve's arm with his shoulder. "She had a blast."

Steve shrugs. "Anytime. She's a great kid."

 **H50*H50*H50**

Dropping her schoolbag at her father's feet on the front step, Grace turns and wraps her arms around her uncle's neck. "Thanks, Uncle Steve. 'Night."

"Night, Gracie," he replies, squeezing the young girl tight. "See you tomorrow, sweetheart."

"Go get strapped in, Monkey," Danny tells his daughter, holding her bad up so she can slip her arms through the straps. "I need to talk to Uncle Steve real quick."

Pushing himself upright from where he'd been kneeling, Steve watches the young girl skip along the path towards where the Camaro is sitting sparkling in the light from the streetlamps overhead. The door slams shut and then Danny says, "Grace's cake is in the garage, along with the decorations. Tell your sister thanks – for the cake tip and for offering to help. I really appreciate it."

Clapping Steve's shoulder, the detective says, "See you tomorrow, Super SEAL," and then jogs over to his car and slides behind the wheel. There's a pause and then the Camaro roars to life, and Steve raises a hand in farewell, lingering in the doorway until the street beyond his house darkens and the rumble of the Chevvy's engine fades into the distance.

Running a hand through his dark hair, Steve closes the front door and locks it, leaving the security chain off so his sister can get in when she returns from her night on the tiles. Passing through the living room, he scoops up the remains of his and Grace's takeout from the table and tucks the empty Longboard bottle under his arm as he heads to the kitchen for the third time.

Full bottle in hand, he flicks off the lights in the living room and lets himself fall onto the couch where he lands in a sprawling heap with one foot on the sofa and the other hanging over the side. He twists the cap off the bottle and reaches for the remote, flicking through the channels until he finds a Band of Brothers marathon on the History Channel. Leaning back into the armrest, Steve tips his Longboard towards his mouth and takes a long swallow, resting the bottle on his thigh between mouthfuls as he watches the flickering images from the TV cast long eerie shadows across the hardwood floor.


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay, if you haven't read Ho'omau this chapter could be a little confusing. I would love for you to read it but if you don't want to, here's what you need to know (without giving away too much):_

 _Chloe is a newly qualified paramedic (she's been on the job for 6 months at this point). Her and Steve (eventually) got together but then they had a huge argument over Steve's over-protectiveness and Chloe stormed out._

* * *

 _Friday, 0158 hours.  
McGarrett house, Piikoi Street._

Steve jolts awake when the arm he'd been using to prop up his head slips off the arm of the couch. The living room is dark, save for the splashes of color being projected across the hardwood floor by the TV and the Band of Brothers marathon he'd fallen asleep to has been replaced by one of those late-night infomercials.

The early morning air sends shivers cascading up Steve's spine and he feels heavy and sluggish as he reaches for the remote. The room is plunged into darkness and he lets his head fall back against the sofa cushion with a dull thud, rubbing at his gritty eyes with the heel of his hand as he drops the remote onto the couch and fumbles in his pocket for his phone. The bright white light from the backlit screen causes pain to flare behind his eyes and he quickly squeezes them shut, blinking away grey spots once the sharp throbbing fades to a dull ache.

He squints blearily at the numbers at the top of the phone's screen until the thin white lines sharpen and then watches as the digits flicker, and one fifty-nine becomes two AM. Pushing himself up, Steve winces when the muscles in his lower back protest and stifling a yawn, he pads through the gap between the couch and the recliner. He stops abruptly when the soft scrabbling of metal on metal cuts through the quietness of the sleep neighborhood and automatically tenses but the tension bleeds from his body when he recognizes the sound of his sister's increasingly frustrated curses coming from the wooden porch outside.

Reaching for the door handle, a quizzical smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when he finds his little sister barefoot and crouched down in front of the door with her key in hand as she squints up at the dark figure standing in the doorway.

"My key doesn't work," she rasps peevishly, staggering to her feet and thrusting the offending key at her brother's chest. Her voice is low and rough as she demands, "Why won't it work?"

"Maybe it's because this is the key for the garage?" Steve rests a hip against the doorframe and folds his arms over his chest but the movement pulls at the band of tension across his lower back and he shifts to try to ease the uncomfortable pressure as Mary's petulant scowl softens.

"It is?" She frowns at the silver key that's being casually dangled in front of her. "Oops…"

"Yeah, oops," Steve agrees with a chuckle as his sister stumble past him and latches onto the turned wooden banister at the bottom of the staircase. Setting the garage key down on the console table beside the couch, he scoops Mary's discarded stilettos up from the porch and locks the front before he turns to follow his sister up the stairs. The shoes swing back and forth against his thigh as he climbs, the gold lame straps glinting in the orange tinted light that's flooding in through the skylight overhead.

Along the landing the door to Mary's room is ajar and Steve gently nudges it wider, and then smiles affectionately at the sight of his annoying little sister sprawled face down on top of her comforter, still wearing the green dress Grace had helped her pick out. Slipping through the gap, he sets Mary's shoes down next to the child-sized rocking chair in the corner and smiles wistfully when he notices his mother's faded patchwork quilt hanging over the back of it amongst the heaped pile of cherished stuffed toys that had been dumped unceremoniously on the wooden seat in typical Mary Ann fashion.

His sister stirs when he drapes the well-loved quilt over her, mumbling sleepily under her breath as she presses her face further into her pillow and Steve murmurs, "It's just me. Go back to sleep," as he tucks the edges of the blanket around her shoulders. Padding back along the hall towards his room, he rubs a hand over is face and pulls his door closed behind him before heading towards the small en-suite.

He doesn't bother with the light as he tugs open the mirrored cabinet over the sink and fumbles with the row of amber bottles on the top shelf. Squinting at the labels in the darkness, he finds the one he wants and fumbles with the childproof cap before dry swallowing two of the little oval pills. The bottle is left sitting on the side of the sink as he pads back into the bedroom and drops his cellphone on the nightstand. Then he flops onto the bed face first and pulls the comforter up over his head.

 _Friday, 0721 hours.  
Five-0 HQ, Iolani Palace._

Kono's surprised to find the office doors still locked and the rooms beyond them in darkness when she arrives. Steffi's leaning against the wall a little ways along the corridor and the rookie chuckles quietly when she sees that the designer suit and stilettos that had been a point of contention between her boss and the reporter the day before have been replaced with skinny jeans and a pair of Converse sneakers.

As well as her dress sense, the reporter's attitude appears to have done a 180 overnight because she offers Kono a small smile and holds her hands out to take the stack of Liliha Bakery boxes, which wobble dangerously when the Five-0 officer reached into her pocket for her keys. Kono nods gratefully as the reporter reaches up to take the first of the boxes from her arms.

"Thanks," she says, stacking the second box on top of the first and then reaching for the lanyard in her back pocket. "I don't know why no-one else is here yet."

Turning the key in the lock, the rookie pushes the door open and pauses while the lights in the foyer him and then flicker to life. "You can put those boxes on the smart table for now," she tells Steffi as she works her way through putting the lights on in the team's personal offices. "We'll be okay as long as Steve doesn't see them."

"These are pretty heavy. What's in here?" Steffi asks, setting the boxes down with a grunt.

Kono lifted one of the lids so the reporter could see the layer of choux pastry lining the bottom of the box. "Cocoa Puffs. It's kind of a tradition," she explains as she leads the way to the break room and fills the kettle with fresh water from the tap. Pulling clean mugs from the cupboard in front of her, she smiles apologetically as she tells Steffi, "Sorry, we only have coffee. If you want tea I could call Chin and get him to pick some up on his way in."

"Coffee's fine, thank," Steffi tells her before asking, "So, how did this become a tradition?"

Laughing, Kono pours hot water over the coffee granules she'd spooned into two of the cups on the counter. "The boss had just come off active duty when we got together and he wasn't used to having to play by the rules," she explains. "It drove Danny insane; he was forever lecturing Steve about proper procedure and self-preservation. Anyways, a few weeks in, we raided a warehouse out in Waimalu and the boss man ended up getting himself shot. It was pretty bad – he nearly bled out in the parking lot while we were waiting for the ambulance. Danny decided that that was the last straw."

Pausing, the rookie sets the kettle back down on its base and pulls a spoon from one of the drawers before continuing, "He threatened to quit. Steve must have realized that he'd crossed a line because he signed himself out of the hospital AMA as soon as he got out of ICU and turned up at Danny's apartment in the middle of the night to apologize." Chuckling, she adds, "A few weeks later, we were getting ready to raid the house of a known arms dealer and the boss strolled in with two boxes of Cocoa Puffs because he knew they were Danny's favorite and he wanted to keep him sweet before the raid."

"Did it work?"

"Yeah, it did," Kono says with a smile as she wraps her hands around her coffee cup. "For a while, anyways."

 **H50*H50*H50**

"Morning, ladies." Danny ducks into the break room and helps himself to a Cocoa Puff from the open box on the counter. "Is Super SEAL in yet?"

"Steve's not with you?" Kono asks, frowning at him over the rim of her mug.

"Nope." Danny brushes powdered sugar from his fingers and then tells her, "I told him last night that I had to drop Grace off at her breakfast club before I came in. He hasn't called?"

Shaking her head, Kono motions to Steffi. "We've been here since seven thirty and it's been quiet. Maybe he's running late?"

"Running late?" Danny fixes the rookie with an incredulous look as he pauses midway through his second foray into the box of pastries. "You know as well as I do that being on time is hardwired into Super SEAL's DNA. Well, that and running into things headfirst without backup."

Across the room, Kono raises her eyebrows at Steffi to say 'I told you so' before she turns to set her empty cup down on the counter by the sink. "As I was saying earlier, the boss doesn't always play by the rules," she tells the reporter with a wry smile, spooning fresh coffee into the 'World's Best Auntie' mug that had been a present from Grace as Danny snorts.

"The man wouldn't know proper procedure if it danced around in front of him stark naked," he scoffs, calling his voicemail to see if Steve had left a message. "You know he once dumped a suspect in a shark cage and left him there?" he tells the reporter, whose eyes widen in shock.

"He's not being serious, is he?" she asks, looking to Kono for confirmation while Danny smirks and pops another Cocoa Puff into his mouth.

Kono laughs as she replies, "As a heart attack."

"Speak of the devil," the detective mutters a few seconds later when Steve pushes through the glass doors into the office and strode through the foyer towards his office. Ending his phone call, Danny pushes himself away from the counter and brushed the remnants of chocolate and powdered sugar from his hands as he steps out into the foyer to retrace his partner's path around the smart table to the corner office at the end of the hall. The wooden blinds that run along the length of the bank of internal windows are drawn and he pauses by the door, watching Steve through the glass door for a moment before he raises his hand to rap his knuckles against the doorframe.

"You look tired. Did you sleep at all last night?" he says as he eases himself into one of the twin leather chairs in front of Steve's desk. Leaning back in his chair, he eyes his partner's ruffled appearance critically before prying nosily, "Did you have your lady friend over? Is that why you're late, you guys got into a little Barry White?"

"No." Steve doesn't look up as he scrawls his name across the bottom of an expense report and drops the sheet in his 'out' tray before pulling the next form from the top of the stack in front of him. While he scans the first paragraph, Danny leans forwards to rest his elbows on his thighs and frowns at the dark smudges beneath his friend's eyes.

"Well, in that case, you look like shit. What's wrong with you?"

Sighing, Steve grudging looks up from his paperwork. "It's nothing, Danno," he says shortly. "I'm just tired."

Danny rolls his eyes and then scoffs, "Yeah, okay, except that excuse would probably work better if I didn't know you passed out on the couch in the middle of a movie last night, Mr. I-can't-sleep-with-the-TV-on."

"What do you want me to say?" Steve asks, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice as he signs his name at the bottom of the form with a little more force than necessary.

"I want you to cut the crap, Steven," his partner retorts angrily, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. Refusing to let the thunderous expression on the former SEAL's face, Danny asks, "What's going on with you? Is it Mary, Chloe… what?"

Grimacing, Steve tosses his pen onto the desk and roughly shoves his stack of paperwork to the side. "Mary's fine," he mutters, running a hand up over his face. "And I haven't heard from Chloe."

Danny rubs a hand out his mouth. "You haven't, huh?" he echoes softly, clasping his hands together as he watches his friend slump back in his chair. "I thought you guys were making a go of things."

"She's been avoiding my calls; we had a bit of a disagreement, she stormed out and I haven't heard from her since," Steve admits unhappily before adding, "And Denning called. He heard about what happened at the crime lab and he's not happy."

Danny huffs, not entirely surprised, and then turns in his seat when Kono knocks on the office door. She slips through the doorway with a cup in her hand and a wad of files tucked under her arm, and sets both down on the desk in front of the former SEAL.

"I figured it's a little early to be cracking open the Red Bull," she says with a shrug when Steve looks at her questioningly. Dropping into the chair next to Danny, the young woman checks, "Black, no sugar, right?" while the detective grins smugly at his partner.

"I hate to say I told you so, babe," he says, ignoring the warning look being aimed at him across the desk and then Kono chips in, "We can handle things here if you want to go home, Boss."

"Chin's at the courthouse waiting to see Judge Connors about the arrest warrant," Danny interjects before Steve can open his mouth to protest. "And Duke's got a unit on the house - they're going to stick around and keep an eye on Justin Conrad until we find out what's happening with the warrant." The muffled chirping of a cell phone starts up just then and the detective's eye follow Kono as the young woman stands to answer her phone and presses a hand over her ear to block out the noise in the background.  
Turning back to his partner, he eyes the dark shadows under the SEAL's eyes and tells the commander bluntly, "None of us want your germs, Steven. Justin won't be able to so much as lift a finger without us knowing about it, so do us all a favor and go home before I end up having to Purell this entire office."

"I don't need to go home, Danny. I'm fine," Steve insists tiredly as Kono re-takes her seat and goes to shove her phone back into her pocket.

"That was Chin. The judge granted the arrest warrant - Chin's on his way back with the paperwork."


	8. Chapter 8

_What happens when you think you've uploaded the next chapter to the document manager and then delete it from your laptop?_

 _You find you didn't upload it after all and have to start again from scratch, losing approximately 500 words in the process._

 _Meh…_

* * *

 _Friday, 0928 hours.  
Five-0 HQ, Iolani Palace._

"Good," Steve says, reaching into his desk drawer for the key to the weapons locker outside. "Steffi and Tony need to be fitted for Tac vests and shown how to put them on. We won't have a lot of time when Chin gets back."

Kono nods sharply. "I'll take them down to HPD just now and show them myself," she offers, pushing herself up out of her chair.

Reaching for the desktop phone on his left, Steve tells her, "I'll tell HPD to expect you. I need to let Duke know the warrant came through anyways." Tossing his keys to Danny with a warning 'Heads up," the former SEAL cradles the phone handset between his cheek and his shoulder and dials the number for HPD as Kono heads out into the main office space.

Danny, however, doesn't follow her and Steve sighs and sets the phone back in its cradle as the detective hovers in front of his desk and snags a form from the pile in front of him. "I'm not going home," he tells his partner shortly. "Later, maybe, but not until we have Justin Conrad in custody. As soon as he's cuffed you're more than welcome to personally escort me home, if that's what you want to do. Okay?"

"Okay," Danny says with a shrug, dropping the form back on Steve's desk before he turns for the door. "Was that so difficult, Steven?"  
Outside, he skirts around the edge of the smart table and uses Steve's master key to unlock the weapons locker that houses Five-0's substantial collection of armaments. Selecting a number of empty magazines, he grabs a box of cartridges off the bottom shelf and then heads over to the smart table, resting a hip on the edge of the computer table as he selects an empty clip from the pile beside him.

"Tell me something," Kono requests as she comes to join Danny at the smart table. "Normally, you'd call Steve out for even suggesting that we take two civilians on a raid but today, of all days, you don't say a thing? I know Denning's piling on the pressure but – "

Danny interrupts, "He doesn't have a choice this time, Kono. Denning found out about the little tantrum Super SEAL threw at the lab and he's made it pretty clear that all of our jobs are in danger if Steve doesn't toe the line. So, in the interest of making it through today in one piece, I'd like to make you an offer – if you keep and eye on those two while I babysit McGarrett, I'll do your paperwork for a week. How's that sound?"

"No deal, brah," Kono says adamantly, shaking her head. "You want me to watch them, you're gonna have to do my paperwork for a month. And I want dibs on the MK25 the next time we hit the range."

"The new Sig Sauer?" Danny raises his eyebrows at the rookie demands and raises his palms to the ceiling in a 'how is this my life' gesture before he grumbles, "You've definitely been spending too much time with Super SEAL." Turning back to the rookie, he tells her, "Final offer – two weeks and I'll throw in some of those little coconut square-y things you like. I'll have to talk to Steve about the MK25."

"Okay, deal," Kono agrees with a grin. Heading over to the break room, she pokes her head around the door and tells Steffi and Tony, "You guys are with me today. The boss want you to wear vests when we're out in the field so we need to head down to HPD to get you fitted." Heading out into the hallway, she leads them along the corridor towards the elevators and then stops when her fingers brush over her empty jeans pocket.

"You guys go on ahead," she calls over her shoulder as she jogs back along the corridor to grab her phone. "I'll meet you downstairs."

Pushing through the main doors, she retraces her steps. The break room comes up empty so she heads back into the foyer and crouches down to check under the smart table. "Where did I leave you?" she mutters under her breath as she pushes herself back up. "Are you in Steve's office?"

The wooden blinds in her boss' office are drawn and she stills as she goes to rap her knuckles against the doorframe, watching as the former SEAL pulls a white plastic bottle from his desk drawer. Pushing herself back against the wall, Kono's stomach twists when Steve tips the bottle's contents into the palm of hand and chases two of the little oval pills down with a sip of lukewarm coffee.

 _Friday, 1017 hours.  
Justin Conrad's house. _

The unmarked car that Duke had assigned to watch Justin Conrad's house is idling at the curb a little way along the street when Steve turns into Luakaha Street and pulls up to the curb behind it. Leaving Danny to check in with the two uniformed officers, the former SEAL heads round to the trunk to grab his Tac vest. Noticing movement behind the voile curtains, the officers had contacted HQ and Danny and Steve had made a hasty exit, leaving Chin to wait for his cousin to return from HPD.

"It's been quiet," Danny reports when he joins Steve at the Camaro a few minutes later. "Davis said they have permission from Duke to hang about if we need the extra hands."

His partner nods and shrugs his vest up over one shoulder. "Get them to put a cordon up at the end of the street once everyone's here. Once they've done that, tell them head round to the back of the house and wait for further instructions from Chin or Kono."

"Someone needs to watch Denning's minions," Danny reminds him, securing the Velcro tabs on the front of his own vest. "Kono's offered to sit this one out so she can keep an eye on Little Miss Catastrophe and her sidekick."

"She _offered_?"

"Well, no," Danny concedes. "I may have had to offer to do her paperwork for two weeks and buy her copious amounts of those little coconut things she's always trying to shove down our throats at barbeques."

"They're called _haupia_ ," Steve says before quietly adding, "Thanks, Danno. You didn't have to do that."

"I know… Luckily for you, I am perfectly willing to accept payment in beer and pizza – not necessarily in that order."

"Beer and pizza. Got it," the former SEAL chuckles as he reaches into the metal safe under the trunk lid for two spare clips. Handing one to his partner, he turns towards the end of the road as a low rumbling cuts through the sound of the traffic on the Queen Liliuokalani Freeway below them. "Cavalry's here," he tells Danny when Chin rounds the corner on his bike, followed a few seconds later by Kono's red Cruz.

"Hey," the lieutenant greets them, propping his bike up on its kickstand while Kono pulls in behind him and heads straight for the trunk to grab both hers and her cousin's vests. "Sorry we took so long. There was a pile up on the freeway and we got caught up in the backlog." Motioning towards the house across the street, he asks, "What's happening with our guy?"

"It's been quiet," Danny says, slipping his spare magazine into the slot at the front of his vest as Kono comes to join them. "He started getting restless about twenty minutes ago; the curtains have been twitching non-stop since we got here."

"So, what's the plan?" the rookie asks, pulling the straps on her Kevlar taught.

"We're going to flush him out," Steve tells her. "HPD will cover the back while we go in the front."

Kono nods. "Okay, give me, like, five minutes to get the comm links set up, okay?" Turning to walk away, Steve wraps a hand around her arm, telling her, "Kono, wait," as Danny as Chin head around the front of the Camaro to talk to the two officers from HPD.

"Are you sure you want to sit this one out?" Steve asks her quietly. "Because I can get one of the uniforms to watch those two if you'd rather be in there with us."

"No way, brah," Kono tells him with a grin. "And lose my chance to get my hands on that MK25 the next time we go down to the range? I've been drooling over that thing for _months_."

"Months, huh?" Steve asks, smiling at the rookie fondly as he folds his arms over his chest. "Okay, it's yours."

 **H50*H50*H50**

Mirroring Danny's position on the other side of Justin's front door, Steve swaps his weapon from his right hand to his left and bangs on the door with the heel of his hand.

"Five-0. Open up, Justin."

Cocking his head, he listens carefully for any signs of movement in the hallway and then reached for the door handle. When he tries it, it's locked and it stubbornly refuses to yield.

"Locked. Big surprise," Danny grumbles, reaching for the mic clipped to his shift cuff. "It's locked," he relays to the others. "Any sign of him where you guys are?"

"Nothing round here and nothing where Davis and Kuhio are, either," Chin's voice reports from the side of the house as Danny turns back to Steve and asks, "So are we going to do our little thing or are you going to save us both the bother and just kick the door down?"

"Cover me," the former SEAL says, eliciting a groan from Danny. Using his shoulder to ram the door, Steve puts his weight behind the movement until the wood around the lock starts to splinter and then stands back when the ruined door swings inwards. Waiting for Danny to barrel past him into the long, narrow hallways, he follows his partner inside with his weapon raised.


	9. Chapter 9

_For those who have asked, I'm updating this story faster than Ho'omau simply because I have more of this one written.  
_ _Thanks to everyone who favorited, followed and reviewed. As always, this is unbeta-ed and I am not a doctor/police officer, so all procedural stuff is courtesy of Google. :)_

* * *

 _Friday, 1012 hours.  
Justin Conrad's house_.

"Kitchen, clear," Steve calls out just as Danny confirms the same for the living room. Holding his weapon at shoulder height, he heads back into the dark hallway and follows the long narrow corridor towards the bedrooms at the back of the house. The doors to the two bedrooms and bathroom are all shut and he presses his back against the wall before he kicks it open with his foot, and bursts into the room with his weapon drawn.

The room is empty and he checks the built-in closet out of habit before he declares the tiny bedroom to be clear and heads back into the hall. Danny's in the bathroom, pulling the shower curtain back to check behind it, so Steve waits for him and they move towards the last door together. They mirror each other's pose on both sides of the door and then the former SEAL holds up three fingers. On the third count, Danny opens the door and covers Steve as he rushes in and comes face to face with a shaken-looking Justin Conrad.

"Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head," Steve demands, pointing his weapon at Justin's chest as the young man hesitates and appears to glance around the room, looking for a way out. When he doesn't obey the commands, the former SEAL takes a step closer and changes his aim to Justin's shoulder as he barks, "Do it _now._ "

With one final sideways glance, Justin slowly raises his arms above his head and sinks to his knees by the end of the bed. He's silent and keeps his head bowed as Danny stows his weapon and steps forwards to cuff him.

"Justin Conrad, you're under arrest on suspicion of murder," Steve tells him, letting his arms drop to his sides when he hears the metallic click of Danny's cuffs locking into place. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney – if you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Justin mumbles as Danny uses the link between the two cuffs to haul him to his feet.

"Good." The detective nudges the cuffed man towards the hallway. "Now start walking."

Outside, Danny hands Justin Conrad off to one of the uniforms. "Put him in the tank and let him stew for a bit," he instructs as the officer leads the young man down the street to one of the waiting patrol cars. Turning, the detective spots his partner slowly making his way across the road to the Camaro and he makes a beeline for his car when he sees the former SEAL sink down onto the ground beside it.

"What, no 'book him, Danno'?" Danny comments as he eases himself down onto the curb next to Steve. "You're slipping, babe." Squinting against the glare of the morning sun, he leans forwards to rest his elbows on his knees before he turns to his partner and asks, "You okay?"

The former SEAL nods and tugs at the Velcro tabs at the front of the Kevlar armor to undo it. Letting the vest drop by his feet, he motions to where Tony is standing in the road next to Kono's red Cruze filming and tells Danny, "They can go in the house but they stay with Kono."

"Obviously," Danny snarks as he moves to stand up. Brushing the dust from the back of his dress pants, he gestures towards the house across the street and asks, "Do you want a ride before I head back in there?"

Steve shakes his head and goes to dig his phone out of his pocket. "I'm good. I'm going to give Fong a call while you guys starts processing – I'll come find you when I'm done."

 **H50*H50*H50**

"What are you looking for?" Steffi asks from the doorway of the bedroom Justin Conrad was found in as she watches Kono pull a pair of latex gloves from her jeans pocket and slip them on.

"Anything that could give us an insight into Justin's relationship with our victim," the rookie explains, crouching down to sort through a pile of clothes lying strewn in front of the large wardrobe in the far corner of the room. "We need place him in the alley at or around time of death so I'm looking for soiled clothing or shoes that match the impression that was left... that kind of thing."

"Like that necklace?" Steffi points to the necklace that's sitting on top of the nightstand on the far side of the bed, causing Kono to look up from where she's examining a questionable mark on a pair of dark blue jeans. Flushing slightly under the scrutiny of the older woman Steffi hesitates and then admits, "I dig a little digging when I went home last night; Julie's Facebook page is set to public so I looked through her photos and found the pictures that she posted the night she died. She was wearing that necklace." Pulling her phone from the pocket of her jeans, she continues, "I'll show you. I took screenshots in case the page was deleted."

Pulling an evidence bag out of her back pocket, Kono walks around the end of the bed to pick up the delicate gold chain and she drops in into the see-through bag as the reporter comes to stand next to her, and scrolls through the photographs on her phone.

"Here," the younger woman says, holding the phone out for her to take. "There are a few different pictures."

Taking the phone, Kono zooms in on Julie's neck and upper chest area and then holds the evidence bag up beside it as Tony's camera beeps quietly behind her.

"Battery's low," he rasps, sounding like a twenty-a-day smoker as he checks the display. He asks Kono, "Is the car open?" and when she nods, he lifts the camera off his shoulder and heads out into the hallway to grab the spare battery, leaving the two women to compare the necklace in Julie's photos to the one in Kono's gloved hand.

"I'd say they're the same," the officer ventures, squinting down at the enlarged but slightly pixelated picture. Turning to Steffi, Kono grins and tells the reporter, "Nice one," before handing back the younger woman's cell. "Can you send me those screenshots?" she asks pulling her own out of her pocket to let the guys know. "My email is _K Kalakaua dot Five-0 at Honolulu PD dot com."_

"Sure." Steffi nods happily and selects the first of the seven screenshots from her photographs as Kono pauses in front of the large wardrobe in the corner to dial Danny's number.

 **H50*H50*H50**

 _Outside, same time._

" _I managed to lift a few partial prints off of your vic's phone screen – I'm running them through AFIS just now. It shouldn't take more than ten, fifteen minutes... I'll call you if I get a hit."_

"Yeah, okay. Thanks, Charlie" Steve says before he ends the call and shoves his phone back into his pocket. Taking a moment to push down the sick feeling that's been lingering in the background since he woke up, the former SEAL rubs both hands up over his face and then stands, and heads across the street to where Danny is standing on the porch talking to Duke Lukela. His partner looks up at the sound of Steve's boots on the porch's wooden steps and waits for him to come to stand beside himself and Duke before asking, "What did Fong say?"

"He found partials. We'll hopefully have a name in the next ten minutes or so. How's it going in there?"

"Slow. Davis and Kuhio offered to help search the house so Chin's supervising to make sure everything's kosher. Kono's searching the bedroom we found Justin in – Steffi and Tony are with her," Danny tells him as Chin appears in the doorway holding two evidence bags. "Watcha got there?" he asks the lieutenant, who holds both bags up at shoulder height.

"A shirt with blood spatter on the inside of one sleeve and a pair of size nine Timberland boots - the tread pattern on the sole looks like it could be a match to the impression that was found. The shirt was stuffed under a bunch of old newspapers and magazines in the trash can outside."

"Good work," Steve tells him before turning to look at Duke. "Can you spare someone to take those down to the lab just now? I'll let Fong know they're coming when he calls with the results of our search."

"No problem," the sergeant says with a nod, taking the evidence bags from Chin. Trotting down the porch steps, he follows the path to the gate at the bottom of the front garden and disappears behind the tall hedge hiding the bungalow from the road as Steve's phone starts to ring; pulling it out of his pocket, the former SEAL checks the caller ID and then answers the call from Charlie Fong with, "Hey, what have you got?"

On the other end of the line, Charlie replies, _"As I expected, the search turned up a number of potential suspects. I'll email you a copy of the search results when I get the official report through from AFIS but in the meantime I can give you some names."_

Motioning to Danny and Chin to move in closer, Steve says, "Just a sec. I'm putting you on loudspeaker," and holds his phone up in the middle of the group as he tells the lab tech, "Okay, give me the names."

" _The top five on my list are Tyler Jensen, Justin Conrad, Martin Akeakamai, Ashley Hunt and James MacTaggart."_

Justin's name coming up isn't a big surprise, given that he lived with Julie Wilson and had plenty of opportunities to touch her phone but Steve's brow furrows at the mention of Ashley's. "I know that name," he mutters, dropping his gaze to the floor as he tries to remember where he's heard it. "Ashley Hunt… Where do I know that name from?"

"The girlfriend," Chin chips in, causing Steve to look up sharply. "The one who reported our vic missing – wasn't her name Ashley Hunt?"

Danny considers it and then says, "It's in the preliminary report. Can you bring it up on your phone?" While Chin logs into the server at HQ, both he and Steve turn their attention back to their conversation with Charlie Fong.

" _I'm still waiting for the results of the DNA tests,"_ the lab tech tells them. " _As soon as I get them through, I'll call."_

"Okay. Thanks, Charlie." Steve ends the call and shoves his phone back in his pocket before he turns to Chin and asks, "Any luck?"

"Yeah," the lieutenant replies, scrolling down through the multi-page document. "The missing persons report _was_ filed by an Ashley Hunt."

"Okay," Danny reasons with a tilt of his head. "So, let's assume for a minute that the two Ashley's are the same person. Why are her prints all over Julie's phone – did she touch it when they were at the bar or is she somehow involved in this? "

"We should go talk to her," Steve decides. "Chin, can you stay here with Kono?"

Chin nods. "Sure," he says, just as Danny interrupts with, "Excuse me… What happened to you going home once Justin Conrad was in custody'?" Jabbing his finger at Steve's chest, the detective continues, "You said, and I quote, I was welcome to _personally_ escort your germy ass home just as soon our guy was cuffed."

"But I – "

"Ah, ah," Danny warns, cutting Steve off mid-sentence when he goes to protest. " _I_ will go talk to Ashley Hunt, y _ou're_ going home. Let's go." He snags his partner's sleeve and uses it to pull him towards the porch steps, calling "I'll call you," over his shoulder to Chin as he herds a grudgingly compliant Steve down the path towards the semi-open gate. When he goes to push it open fully, his cell phone rings and the detective answers it with, "Kono, hey," as he steps down off the curb to cross the street.

" _We got something. A necklace – Julie was wearing it the night she was killed."_

"Okay," Danny says. Reaching the Camaro, he tucks his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he unsnaps the shoulder clips on his Tac vest. "And you know this how?"

" _Facebook. Steffi found pictures on our vic's page and – "_

There's a muffled thud and Danny pulls his phone away from his ear to check he hasn't been cut off, but the numbers at the top of the screen are still ticking away and the detective's brow furrows as he jams his phone back to his ear.

"Kono?"

But instead of a reply, there's a high-pitched scream and then the line goes dead.


End file.
